#the court’s flirt // heart

[pinkcadillaccas]

Everyone needs to get on my spones divorce wavelength right tf now ‼️

[lunaetis]

[ all my muses love stars. all of them. no exception. you want to romance my muses ? do it under the stars. you have 50% higher chance to succeed than any normal circumstances, hands down. this had been a PSA from yours truly. ]

[ozzgin]

It’d be funny to have a ghost/spirit/monster partner that you could just call whenever when you look into a mirror and chant their name 3 times in the dark ☺️

They could also leave cute messages in the mirror for you too 🩸

-👘

Haunted house with a monsterfucker feels like a spooky romcom. content: gender neutral reader

“Oh-!” you gasp quietly, staring at the bloodied mirror.

In thick, crimson letters, the dripping warning says 'You belong to me'.

“Stop it! You’re such a romantic,” you finally conclude, twirling your hair and blushing innocently.

It was love at first haunting.

When you’d initially heard the creaks and the heavy footsteps, you assumed someone broke in. You took your bat and tiptoed down the dark hallway, heart slamming against your chest, terrified.

Then it occurred to you: the house was haunted. You breathed a sigh of relief and tilted the bat against the wall once more.

The romance started with subtle flirting. One evening you found deep scratches on your bedroom door, and giggled at the implications; someone must've been eager to get in. The entity grew bolder, cheekier. You'd often awaken from your slumber to a sudden, invisible weight dropping into your mattress, or you'd find foreign markings on your thighs and back.

While you appreciated the relentless courting, you couldn't help but want more. Thus, you decided to take matters into your own hands, standing before a mirror and chanting the name - which had been conveniently carved into your walls the night before - demanding for the creature to show itself. You don't remember much from the following sequences, just that you required a cushion to sit for weeks.

"You know, there's other ways to show it," you suggest with a grin, heading for the bed.

Without delay, the door slams loudly, and the floor begins to creak menacingly. You're abruptly pushed ahead, stumbling face-first into the pillows. Above you, the headboard becomes stained with a clawed handprint, slowly smudging itself towards you.

It seems you won't be going out tonight, after all.

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[kiwriteswords]

could we get hotch flirting with shy reader but hotch is rusty and out of the dating scene for so long so ultimately doesn't come across as fliriting to reader, so he has to eventually be bold about it?

Sweet Beginnings

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This sweetness got away from me!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Female Reader

Word Count: 16.6k

Tags/Warnings: Feminine Reader, Shy Reader, Soft and Romantic Smut, Mainly Fade to Black Smut, Romantic Hotch, Hotch in his Courting Masculine Energy, Non-BAU Reader, Bottle of Wine is Mentioned, Romance!! Fluff!!! Enamored Flirty Hotch!!

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner wasn’t one to indulge in leisurely distractions, but a small coffee shop called Sweet Beginnings—and its gentle, shy owner—quickly became a quiet escape from his chaotic life.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to take advice on leisure activities—especially not from Penelope Garcia. But the way she raved about a little coffee and pastry shop downtown was difficult to ignore, even for someone as stoic as he was.

“It’s cozy, Hotch. The kind of place where you could breathe for a change,” she’d said with a bright smile. “And their pastries? To die for.”

He wasn’t someone particularly picky when it came to coffee or the sweet tooth he allowed himself to indulge in every now and then, but with Penelope Garcia’s dazzling review of this place, he figured he’d give it a try. 

So, one Friday morning, after dropping Jack off at school, Aaron found himself standing in front of the quaint café. The sign above the door read Sweet Beginnings in elegant, hand-painted script. The soft glow from inside beckoned him in, along with the faint smell of coffee and freshly baked goods.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. The shop was warm, decorated with mismatched chairs and tables that gave it a homey feel. Aaron noted the shelves of books and plants along the walls the hum of soft music in the background. It was quiet but alive, much like the woman behind the counter.

You greeted him with a soft smile, barely meeting his eyes as you handed a cup of coffee to the customer ahead of him. Aaron noticed the delicate way you moved, the way your hands wrapped around the mug to steady it as you passed it over. When it was his turn, you offered him the same gentle smile, your voice barely above a murmur.

“Good morning. What can I get for you?”

Aaron had prepared to order the first thing on the menu, but something about you—your calm demeanor, the way your shyness didn’t feel like a wall but an invitation to be gentle—made him pause.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated for a moment as though surprised he’d asked for your opinion. “Um, the vanilla latte is popular… and the lemon scones are fresh today.”

“Then I’ll have those,” Aaron replied, watching the way your face lit up just slightly, like you were proud of your recommendation but too modest to show it outright.

He didn’t expect to find himself at Sweet Beginnings again so soon, but the following Monday, Aaron walked in and ordered the same thing. Over time, his visits became routine—part of the rhythm of his mornings when he wasn’t rushing to a case.

Aaron learned small things about you through your brief conversations. You’d opened the shop a couple of years ago, pouring your heart into creating a space that felt warm and safe. You loved reading, often leaving books on the counter to mark your place. You had a quick wit, though you always seemed surprised when someone caught onto it. And you were so gentle, in a way that Aaron found himself appreciating more and more.

He’d never thought of himself as someone easily captivated, but there was something about you that lingered with him long after he left the shop. The soft way you said his name when you finally learned it, the way your shyness made you blush when he asked about your favorite book—it all stayed with him.

Aaron Hotchner had always been a man of precision. In the field, his words were measured, deliberate, carefully chosen to achieve the best outcome. Flirting, he realized, was a wholly different matter. It wasn’t long before he found himself trying, though, with you—if it could even be called flirting.

At first, it was subtle—so subtle he wondered if it even registered. The first time, he complimented your coffee.

“You’re making it hard to go anywhere else for coffee,” he said one morning, his tone uncharacteristically light. He stood at the counter, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie slightly loosened from the morning rush.

You blinked at him, clearly startled, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh… thank you. I’m glad you like it,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Aaron thought he saw something flicker in your expression—a glimmer of flattered surprise, maybe—but it was gone in an instant. You handed him his cup, offering him the same gentle smile you gave every customer, and he realized you either hadn’t caught on or didn’t think much of it.

But he wasn’t one to give up easily.

A few days later, Aaron leaned casually against the counter, watching as you expertly filled a tray of pastries to restock the display. His gaze softened as he noticed the delicate precision in your movements, the way your hands handled each scone with care. When you finally turned to him, you offered your usual quiet smile, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“Same order as always?” you asked.

Aaron nodded but added, “Do you have any secrets to these scones, or are you just naturally this talented?”

You tilted your head at him, confused at first. Then your lips curled into a shy, almost bashful smile. “It’s the recipe,” you said, your tone light but modest. “I just follow it.”

He couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. There’s a level of care here you don’t find in most places.”

Again, your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, as if unsure how to respond. Aaron took his coffee with a quiet thanks and left, wondering if he’d ever get more than your polite deflections.

One morning, as you handed him his cup, Aaron noticed something different. Written on the sleeve was a simple, hand-drawn smiley face alongside the words, Have a great day! It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tug at something deep in his chest.

He looked up, catching your eyes. “A smiley face?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips quirked into a subtle smile.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I’ve been doing little notes for regulars,” you said quickly, your words slightly rushed. “I thought it might brighten someone’s day.”

“It does,” Aaron said warmly. “Thank you.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip in a way that made his chest tighten. He thought he saw your shoulders relax slightly, but you quickly busied yourself with the next customer, leaving him to wonder if he was imagining things.

Over time, Aaron became bolder—or at least, as bold as he could manage within the confines of a café conversation. He tried humor one day, when you handed him a blueberry muffin instead of his usual lemon scone.

“A deviation from the usual?” he asked, lifting the bag and raising an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you looked panicked. “Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m joking,” Aaron said quickly, his voice warm. “I trust your judgment.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “I just thought you might like to try something different,” you admitted, your fingers brushing nervously against the counter.

He smiled, noticing how your shyness made you fidget. “Then I’m sure I will,” he replied. “Thank you.”

The more he tried, the more he realized you weren’t picking up on his intentions. Or maybe you were, and you didn’t believe them. Either way, Aaron found himself at an impasse. 

It was a rare moment of stillness in the bullpen, the team gathering themselves after wrapping up a grueling case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, papers in front of him, though his focus had shifted to the cup of coffee in his hand. The familiar, comforting aroma wafted up as he took a sip.

“Alright, Aaron,” Rossi’s voice cut through the quiet, drawing Aaron’s gaze upward. The older man leaned casually against the doorframe to his office, arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been walking in here every morning with that same cup. It’s not just coffee, is it?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi chuckled, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “You’re not the type to spend almost ten bucks on a latte every day just for the caffeine. You’re going to that little shop downtown, aren’t you? Sweet Beginnings, or whatever it’s called?”

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’ve never been a hipster coffee shop kind of guy,” Rossi said matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the cup. “So unless they’re serving something laced with gold, I’m guessing it’s not about the coffee. Am I right?”

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “You have too much time on your hands.”

Rossi grinned, pulling up a chair. “You’re deflecting. So, who is she?”

“Who says it’s about anyone?” Aaron countered, though his slight shift in posture betrayed him.

“Because I know you,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “And I know that look. You’ve got someone on your mind, and I’d bet a week’s salary it’s not the barista’s latte art skills.”

Aaron let the silence linger for a moment before finally relenting. “She’s the owner,” he admitted, his voice low. “She’s... shy, gentle. There’s something about her I can’t quite put into words.”

Rossi nodded knowingly. “Ah, and let me guess—you’ve been trying to make a move, but she’s not picking up on it?”

Aaron hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve tried to show interest. Compliments, humor, the usual... but either she doesn’t notice, or she’s just not interested.”

“Well, have you considered that she might just be too shy to believe you’re serious?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair. “If she’s as gentle as you say, she probably doesn’t think a guy like you would be interested in her.”

Aaron frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Hotch. You’re smart, successful, and intimidating as hell when you want to be. A lot of women would think twice before assuming you’re flirting, especially someone shy,” Rossi explained with a knowing look. “You might need to be a little more... direct.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Direct?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints. Women like her appreciate honesty. She’s probably too busy overthinking to pick up on your breadcrumbs.”

Aaron considered this, his gaze dropping to the cup in his hand. He’d been dancing around the idea for weeks now, unsure if it was the right move. But Rossi’s words carried weight—as they always did.

“And what if she’s not interested?” Aaron asked after a moment.

“Then you’ll know,” Rossi said simply. “But from the way you’re talking about her, I’d say it’s worth finding out.”

Hotch nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Dave.”

Rossi stood, patting him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just don’t wait too long. Life’s short, my friend. And good coffee? Even shorter.”

Aaron Hotchner stood outside Sweet Beginnings, the cool morning air brushing against his face as he gathered his thoughts. The warm light spilling out of the café windows contrasted with the nervous energy he felt—a rare sensation for someone so used to control. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind: “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints.”

He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. It was quieter than usual, with only one other patron seated by the window. You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a fresh tray of pastries on display. The sight of you—focused, gentle in your movements—was enough to ground him, if only slightly.

You looked up at the sound of the bell, offering your usual shy smile when you saw him. “Good morning,” you said softly. “The usual?”

Hotch approached the counter, his expression softer than usual. “Not just yet,” he said, his voice steady. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment first.”

You blinked, surprised, and set down the tray you’d been holding. “Oh… sure,” you murmured, folding your hands nervously in front of you. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Aaron said quickly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say something that I think I haven’t been clear about.”

You tilted your head slightly, your curiosity evident despite your shyness. Aaron took a breath, his hands resting lightly on the counter.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” he began, his voice calm but sincere. “And while I do enjoy the coffee—and the pastries—what really keeps me coming back is you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he saw the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your apron. “M-Me?” you stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“Yes, you,” Aaron said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and there’s a warmth about you that I’ve found myself looking forward to more than I expected. I realize I might not have made that clear before, and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren’t sure what to say. “I… I thought you were just being nice,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought…”

Aaron’s smile grew slightly. “I wasn’t just being nice,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m interested, and if you’d like, I’d love to take you out to dinner. No coffee shop counters between us, just… us.”

You blinked up at him, your shyness warring with a hesitant excitement. “I… I’d like that,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly but full of sincerity. “I’d really like that.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Aaron felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He nodded, his smile softening. “Good. How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your lips curving into a shy but genuine smile.

Of course, Aaron had the perfect place in mind. He shared that with you, and you both found a time that worked. He would do whatever it took to be here to pick you up for the date. 

As Aaron left the shop that morning, he felt a rare sense of anticipation blooming in his chest. Rossi was right—honesty had been the answer. And for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something beyond the next case.

Aaron Hotchner stood on the sidewalk in front of Sweet Beginnings, smoothing his tie as he glanced up at the windows above the shop. The lights in one of them were on—a warm, inviting glow spilling out onto the darkening street. It was where you lived, just above the place you’d built from scratch.

He took a steadying breath and checked his watch. It was still a few minutes before the time you’d agreed on, but he couldn’t resist being early. There was a quiet kind of excitement in him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

The door to the shop opened, and there you were. For a moment, Aaron froze.

You were stunning. The soft glow from the shop lights illuminated you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your dress simple but elegant, perfectly complementing your natural beauty. Your hair fell just right, framing your face in a way that made his heart skip. He’d always thought there was something enchanting about you—your gentle demeanor, your shy smile—but seeing you like this, he was utterly captivated.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice almost tentative as you met his eyes.

Aaron blinked, recovering quickly, though his usual composure felt shaken. “Hi,” he replied, his tone warmer than usual. “You look… beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, your fingers brushing against the strap of your small purse. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You look really nice too.”

Aaron smiled, his chest tightening slightly at your shy response. He stepped forward, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You nodded, slipping your hand lightly into the crook of his arm. As he led you toward his car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again. You had an air of grace about you, soft and unassuming, yet it commanded his full attention.

The restaurant he’d chosen was quiet and intimate, a small Italian place tucked away in a corner of the city. Candles flickered on the tables, casting a warm glow over the room. Aaron pulled out your chair for you before sitting across from you, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to fit into the moment despite your shy nature.

His attention was entirely on you—the way you fidgeted lightly with the edge of your napkin, the faint blush on your cheeks every time his eyes lingered a moment too long.

“So,” he began, leaning slightly forward, his voice soft but steady, “what made you want to open a coffee shop?”

You looked down at your hands, hesitating for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I always loved baking,” you said, your voice quiet but laced with sincerity. “It’s… comforting. My grandmother used to bake with me when I was little. She’d always say there was nothing a warm pastry and a cup of coffee couldn’t fix.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a small smile. “Wise advice.”

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. “When she passed, I just… I wanted to create a place that felt like her kitchen. A place where people could feel safe and welcome.”

“That’s exactly what you’ve done,” Aaron said, his tone warm. “Your shop has that kind of atmosphere. It’s different from anywhere else.”

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head slightly. “Thank you,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I’m glad it comes across that way.”

Aaron couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was quickly learning how much he enjoyed making you blush—how your shy responses revealed so much about the gentle person you were.

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, your voice a little hesitant. “What… what made you want to join the FBI?”

Aaron paused, his expression softening as he considered the question. “I’ve always wanted to help people,” he said after a moment. He briefly went on to share about following in his father’s footsteps but creating his own path along the way. The way you allowed a platform for him to share so easily, the words and his own story coming out of his mouth without second thought. Something normally so foreign to him.

You nodded, your eyes thoughtful. “It must be hard, though… seeing everything you see.”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, his gaze steady. “But it’s worth it. And moments like this… they remind me there’s still good in the world.”

Your cheeks flushed again, and you looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m really… good,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but gentle. “You are. You have a way of making people feel seen, even in small ways. That’s a rare gift.”

You looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “I… I’ve never thought of it that way,” you admitted, your blush deepening.

“Maybe you should,” Aaron replied with a faint smile.

Later in the evening, as the waiter cleared your plates, Aaron took a sip of his wine, watching the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you always blush this much?” he teased lightly, his tone warm and playful.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked down, your fingers brushing nervously against the tablecloth. “I—I can’t help it,” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “I think it’s charming,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Though I’ll admit, I might be trying to make it happen more often.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and bashfulness. “That’s not fair,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your obvious embarrassment.

Aaron’s smile widened. “Life’s not always fair,” he said, his voice teasing. “But I’d say this moment is one of the better ones.”

You laughed quietly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed moments like this—a simple, honest connection.

By the time the evening wound down and Aaron walked you back to your apartment, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Standing at your door, he couldn’t resist one last attempt to see that beautiful blush of yours.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told you, his voice low and sincere. “You’re incredible. I feel… lucky to have spent tonight with you.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you smiled shyly, looking down at your hands. “I feel lucky too,” you said softly.

Aaron chuckled lightly, his heart swelling at your words. “Goodnight,” he said gently, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice as soft as the warm light spilling from your doorway.

As he walked back to his car, Aaron felt something rare and undeniable. For the first time in years, he felt like he was stepping into something real, something special. And he couldn’t wait to see where it might lead.

The next morning at Sweet Beginnings began like any other for you. The familiar rhythm of grinding coffee beans, the hum of the espresso machine, and the gentle murmur of early-morning customers filled the space. But today, there was something unexpected—a delivery that arrived just before the rush.

The bouquet was stunning. Soft pink peonies, delicate white roses, and sprigs of lavender were arranged with care, their sweet fragrance filling the air as you stared at them in disbelief. Tucked among the blooms was a small card, the handwriting neat and precise.

Thank you for a wonderful evening. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. - Aaron

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you found yourself pressing the card to your chest as if the gesture could steady your racing heart. Flowers. For you. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent you flowers, much less something so thoughtful and beautiful. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. You tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at the bouquet—now proudly displayed on the counter—you couldn’t help but blush.

When Aaron walked in later that morning, his usual confident stride was accompanied by a small flicker of uncertainty. He spotted the flowers immediately, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm.

You turned toward him, your eyes lighting up as you smiled shyly. “Good morning,” you replied softly. “Thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he leaned slightly against the counter. “I’m glad you like them,” he said. “I thought you deserved something as lovely as you are.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you looked down, fiddling nervously with the edge of your apron. “I don’t… I mean, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Aaron interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Last night reminded me of something I haven’t felt in a long time. Romance should be… intentional. Thoughtful. And you inspire me to want to do that.”

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes filled with something between surprise and bashful gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his gaze steady and sincere. “Just let me keep doing this—showing you how much I enjoy being with you.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, the sincerity in his expression rendering you speechless. Finally, you nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He could feel the warmth in his chest spreading as he reached for his usual order. But today, when you handed him his coffee, your hands lingered just a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice gentle but filled with meaning.

As Aaron left the shop, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You’d awakened something in him—a desire to court you properly, to show you just how much you meant to him. And he couldn’t wait to see where this journey would lead.

The BAU jet cruised quietly through the night sky, the hum of the engines a familiar backdrop to the subdued conversations and occasional shuffling of papers. Aaron Hotchner sat at the small table, ostensibly reviewing case files, but his mind was elsewhere. The faint glow of his phone screen on the table seemed to taunt him as he thought about you.

The first date had gone so well—better than he had expected, even. You had been soft-spoken but so genuine, your sweetness and warmth drawing him in like a balm to the chaos he so often faced. He wanted to see you again, to plan the next date, but the timing of this case had whisked him away before he could make it happen.

“Hotch, you good?” JJ’s voice broke through his thoughts, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

He glanced up, meeting her knowing smile with a faint raise of his brow. “I’m fine,” he replied evenly, though he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“Uh-huh,” Rossi chimed in from across the aisle, his smirk already in place. “Fine enough to be lost in thought for the last hour? Let me guess, you’re not still running through case details.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, not irritated but resigned. “Rossi, I don’t—”

“Let me guess,” Rossi interrupted with a teasing grin. “It’s got something to do with Sweet Beginnings and a certain someone who runs it.”

JJ’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Wait, the coffee shop? The one with the owner Penelope’s been raving about?”

At the sound of her name, Penelope’s voice crackled through the laptop perched nearby, her face appearing on the video call. “Are we talking about her? Hotch, please tell me we’re talking about her.”

Aaron leaned back in his seat, clearly outnumbered, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. “Yes, we went on a date,” he admitted, his voice calm but tinged with warmth.

The reaction was immediate. Penelope squealed so loudly that Spencer visibly flinched, while Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying Aaron’s discomfort. JJ, however, leaned in slightly, her expression soft and encouraging.

“And?” JJ prompted gently.

“And it was… wonderful,” Aaron admitted after a pause. “But we didn’t make plans for a second date before I left for this case. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“That’s an easy fix,” Rossi said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Shoot her a message. Let her know you’re thinking about her and that you want to see her again. Simple.”

“Penelope?” JJ interjected, turning to the laptop.

“Oh, he doesn’t need my help,” Penelope said, waving her hand dramatically. “Hotch has his own kind of charm—direct and a little broody, but it works. Just don’t overthink it, sir. She’ll swoon no matter what.”

Aaron shook his head with a faint chuckle, pulling his phone closer. He didn’t need much convincing. The thought of reaching out to you felt natural, not something to agonize over.

As the team’s chatter faded into the background, Aaron composed the message, keeping it simple but meaningful:

Hi. I’ve been thinking about you and how much I enjoyed our evening together. When I’m back, I’d love to take you out again—if you’re free, of course.

After rereading it once, he hit send, the faint hum of anticipation settling in his chest. He placed the phone face down on the table, not wanting to watch it, but his thoughts were already with you.

“Done?” Rossi asked, smirking as Aaron met his gaze.

“Done,” Aaron replied with a faint nod.

JJ smiled, nudging Rossi with her elbow. “Told you he didn’t need our help.”

Penelope’s delighted laugh echoed through the call. “Oh, he’s got this, JJ. We just like to cheer him on!”

Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. Despite the teasing, he appreciated their support. For the first time in years, the prospect of romance felt like more than just an indulgence—it felt like something real, something worth pursuing. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

Aaron Hotchner spent the day chasing leads, directing the team, and piecing together profiles—but now, with the case temporarily at a lull, his thoughts had inevitably drifted back to you.

The gentle buzz of his phone pulled his attention, and he felt an inexplicable flicker of anticipation. Picking it up, he saw your name at the top of the screen, along with your response:

Hi, Aaron. I’ve been thinking about you too. I’d love to go on another date when you’re back. Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free.

Aaron exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Relief? Gratitude? No—something softer. Something that warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He read the message again, letting the simplicity of your words settle over him. You’d been thinking about him. It was such a small thing, but it held so much weight. He could picture you shyly typing the message, your soft smile as you hesitated over every word. The thought brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

He began typing his reply:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. It wasn’t enough—not for what he wanted to convey. He deleted the last sentence and replaced it with:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It was bold, direct—words he wouldn’t normally allow himself to say. But you weren’t like anyone else. You brought out a softness in him, a desire to be open, to let you see the man behind the stoic facade.

After hitting send, Aaron set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. The faint hum of the air conditioner in the hotel room filled the silence, but his mind was anything but quiet. He thought of your gentle smile, the way your blush deepened when he complimented you, the quiet humility in everything you did. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of his world, and yet, it felt like exactly what he needed.

A moment later, his phone buzzed again. He reached for it, his heart inexplicably light as he read your reply:

I’ve been thinking about you too. I’ve never met anyone like you, Aaron. Take your time with the case—I’ll be here when you get back.

Aaron let out a quiet breath, his lips curving into another faint smile. He allowed himself a moment to simply sit there, phone in hand, savoring the thought of you waiting for him. It was a rare feeling for him—a sense of connection, of something good waiting for him beyond the cases, the paperwork, the endless responsibilities.

He typed one final response:

Thank you. That means more to me than you know. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. Sleep well, and take care.

After hitting send, Aaron placed his phone on the nightstand and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until now, when the thought of you seemed to lighten the weight. For the first time in years, he felt something entirely his own to look forward to. Something real. Something good.

Aaron Hotchner stood outside your coffee shop, his hand brushing the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way over. They weren’t as grand as the first ones he’d sent you—just a handful of simple daisies and lavender tied with a ribbon—but they felt right. Thoughtful, unassuming, like you.

He exhaled a slow breath, running his fingers through his hair before stepping inside. The soft chime of the bell announced his arrival, and his gaze immediately found you behind the counter.

You looked up at the sound, your eyes lighting up when they met his. A warm, shy smile spread across your face, and Aaron felt that familiar tightening in his chest, the one that had been there since your first date.

“Aaron,” you greeted softly, wiping your hands on your apron before stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice softening in a way it rarely did. He extended the flowers toward you, his lips curving into a faint smile. “For you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up your cheeks as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the petals. “Thank you.”

Aaron watched as you carefully set the flowers in a vase behind the counter, your touch so gentle it almost made him smile again. He’d spent years in a world where gentleness felt like a luxury, and yet, with you, it seemed so effortless.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but warm.

You nodded, untying your apron and grabbing your bag. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Aaron said, his tone light but firm, and he was rewarded with the smallest laugh from you as you followed him out the door.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. Aaron had chosen a quiet spot just outside the city—a garden restaurant with fairy lights strung across trellises and the soft sound of live acoustic music in the background. He led you to a secluded table near the fountain, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide, curious eyes.

“This is… beautiful,” you said softly, your gaze sweeping over the setting before landing back on him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Aaron replied simply, his gaze steady on yours.

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about your day, about the customers at the coffee shop, and how you’d been experimenting with new pastry recipes. Aaron listened intently, his expression softening as he watched you.

“And what about you?” you asked at one point, tilting your head slightly. “How was the case?”

“It went well,” Aaron said, his tone measured. “But it’s nice to be back. To be here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re really good at making me blush,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I think I enjoy it.”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears, and for a moment, he reveled in how at ease you made him feel.

Aaron walked you to your apartment door, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm hue over the quiet street. The evening had been perfect—dinner, conversation, and the kind of connection he hadn’t felt in years. Now, standing outside your door, he found himself reluctant to let the night end.

You turned to face him; your bag clutched lightly in one hand as you offered him a shy smile. “I really had a wonderful time tonight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the same gentle warmth that had captivated him since the moment he met you.

“So did I,” Aaron replied, his voice low but steady. He took a small step closer, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as his gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me take you out again.”

Your blush deepened, and you glanced down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I… I really like spending time with you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at your words, and for a moment, all he could do was take in the sight of you—the way the faint pink in your cheeks mirrored the soft glow of the lights, the way your fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap of your bag.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice holding an honesty that surprised even himself. “And I feel the same way.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something else, but no words came. Instead, your gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest of moments before darting away, your shyness making you retreat a half-step.

Aaron caught the hesitation and knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer, his movements careful and measured, giving you every chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.

Your breath hitched as the space between you closed, and then his lips met yours—soft, warm, and full of unspoken promises.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he were afraid to shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. But when he felt you lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly against his coat sleeve, he allowed himself to deepen it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked softly, your voice still trembling slightly from the kiss.

“For trusting me,” Aaron replied, his gaze meeting yours. “And for letting me be here with you.”

Your shy smile returned, and you shook your head lightly. “I should be thanking you,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice warm but steady.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your cheeks still flushed as you opened the door and disappeared inside.

Aaron stood there for a moment, the faint hint of your perfume lingering in the air. As he turned to walk back to his car, a rare sense of contentment settled over him. The kiss had been more than just a moment—it was a beginning. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would take them.

Aaron sat in his office late into the evening, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. His tie was loosened, his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The day’s paperwork sat in a neat stack on his desk, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He thought about you—the shy way you smiled, the soft cadence of your voice, the way you seemed to bring warmth and light into even the simplest moments. There was something about your gentle, sweet demeanor that drew him in, and made him want to do more, be more. 

Aaron had always been a man of action, of logic and order. But with you, he found himself wanting to lean into something softer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: the romance of it all. Your femininity—delicate but unshakable—called to a side of him he hadn’t tapped into in a long time, the part that wanted to court you properly, to show you how deeply he cared.

Closing the last file of the night, Aaron leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as an idea began to take shape. He wanted to do something special for you—something that would make you feel cherished. Not because you needed grand gestures but because you deserved to be celebrated.

He stood in the quiet bookstore, the scent of paper and leather-bound spines enveloping him as he carefully ran his fingers over the titles lining the shelves. He’d spent the day thinking about you—about the way your shy smile had lingered in his mind, about how you seemed to carry a quiet strength wrapped in gentleness. He wanted to give you something that reflected that—something meaningful, but not overwhelming.

As his fingers brushed over the spine of a beautiful, hardcover edition of one of his favorite novels, he paused. The cover was embossed with intricate details, and the pages were gilded with gold edges. He smiled to himself, knowing it was perfect. The book was a classic, timeless and heartfelt, just like you.

Later that evening, as you were tidying up Sweet Beginnings, the familiar chime of the bell startled you. You looked up to see Aaron stepping inside, his tall frame silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights behind him.

“Aaron,” you greeted, your voice soft but surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter. In his hands was a small, wrapped package.

Your eyes flicked to the gift, curiosity sparkling in your expression. “What’s this?”

Aaron placed it gently on the counter, his gaze steady but warm. “It’s for you,” he said simply. “Something I thought you might like.”

You blinked, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush as you reached for the package. Carefully unwrapping it, you gasped softly when the book came into view.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the gold edges of the pages. “Aaron, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “It reminded me of you. Thoughtful, timeless, and more meaningful than you probably realize.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Finally, you looked up at him, your shy smile softening your features. “Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “This is… perfect.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his chest tightening at the sight of your happiness. “I know how much you love your coffee shop and the comfort it brings people,” he said, his voice low. “This felt like something you could enjoy during those rare quiet moments.”

Your fingers clutched the book a little tighter, and you looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re… incredibly thoughtful,” you murmured, your voice almost trembling.

Aaron stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you make it easy to be,” he said softly.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.

“I’ll let you get back to closing up,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice gentle. “But… maybe we could plan that third date soon?”

Your shy smile widened, and you nodded, the book still cradled in your hands. “I’d love that.”

Aaron left the shop that night feeling lighter than he had in years. You inspired something in him—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. And with every step forward, he found himself wanting to match your sweetness with a depth of care and romance that felt entirely natural, entirely right.

 Aaron Hotchner turned to leave, but before he could take a step toward the door, your voice stopped him.

“Wait,” you said softly, almost hesitant.

He turned back, his eyes meeting yours, the shy smile still on your lips but now tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

“I was just about to have a little treat before I finished up here,” you said, your voice gentle. “I was going to eat it alone, but… would you like to stay and share it with me?”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and he took a step closer, his eyes warm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your blush deepening slightly as you glanced down at the book still in your hands. “I think it’d be nice,” you murmured.

He hesitated only for a moment before pulling off his coat and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “Then I’d love to stay.”

You disappeared into the back of the shop for a moment, leaving Aaron to settle into a chair by the counter. When you returned, you carried a small plate with two slices of pie, the golden crust gleaming under the soft light.

“It’s just apple pie,” you said, setting the plate down between you. “Nothing fancy, but it’s one of my favorites.”

Aaron picked up the fork you handed him, his gaze lingering on you as you slid into the seat across from him. “Apple pie happens to be one of my favorites, too,” he said, his tone light but warm.

You smiled, your blush deepening as you took a small bite. “Then I guess it’s perfect.”

As the two of you ate, the conversation flowed easily, though Aaron couldn’t help but watch the way you moved—so soft, so unassuming. He found himself leaning into the moment, his tone growing warmer, more teasing.

“You’re a hard person to say no to,” he said at one point, his gaze steady on yours.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes widening slightly as you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile. “The way you asked me to stay just now. I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to something so… sweet. How could I say no to that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, fiddling with your fork. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” you murmured.

“You didn’t,” Aaron assured you, his voice low but firm. “In fact, I’m glad you did. Spending time with you—it’s the best part of my day.”

You froze for a moment, your fork clattering lightly against the plate as you looked up at him, your wide eyes shimmering with emotion. “You… really mean that?”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do,” he said softly. “You’re… remarkable. And I don’t just mean because of how kind and thoughtful you are. It’s not something I’ve experienced in a long time.”

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “But I hope you know how much I enjoy being here with you.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both. Aaron could see the way your blush deepened, how your fingers nervously brushed against the edge of the table. It was endearing, and he found himself wanting to put you at ease in the only way he knew how.

“By the way,” he said, his tone turning playful, “if this is how you usually spend your evenings, I might have to make a habit of stopping by after hours.”

You laughed softly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a rare warmth spread through his chest. “I wouldn’t mind that,” you said shyly, your eyes meeting his again.

Aaron’s smile widened, and as he took another bite of pie, he realized that this moment—simple, unassuming, and shared with you—was everything he’d been looking for without even knowing it. For the first time in years, he felt completely at ease, entirely himself. And he couldn’t wait to see where this quiet, growing connection would take them.

Aaron took his last bite of pie, savoring the sweetness, but his attention was fully on you—the way your smile lingered, your cheeks still faintly flushed from his earlier words. You glanced at him shyly, your fork toying with the crumbs on your plate.

“I think you might be dangerous,” Aaron said suddenly, his voice low and teasing.

You looked up at him, startled. “Dangerous?”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. You’ve got me sitting here in a coffee shop at the end of a long day, forgetting entirely about the rest of the world.” His dark eyes softened as they lingered on yours. “I think I could get used to this.”

Your blush deepened, and you bit your bottom lip, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a nervous laugh.

Aaron leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he lowered his voice. “It’s a very good thing. You make everything feel… easier. Brighter.”

You blinked, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” you admitted, your tone almost too soft to hear.

“Well, someone should have,” Aaron said gently. His voice was steady, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you look up again. “Because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it.”

The quiet weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, the air seemed charged with something unspoken. You fidgeted slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the plate before you finally gathered the courage to speak.

“You’re… different than I thought you’d be,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re so serious at first, but then… you say things like that, and I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m still serious,” he said, leaning a little closer, his eyes crinkling with a rare smile. “But you make it hard to keep my guard up.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” you whispered.

“Then don’t say anything,” Aaron replied softly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression shifting slightly—something warmer, more vulnerable. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll keep saying these things. Because I want you to know how I feel.”

You blinked at him, your heart racing at his words. “Aaron, I—”

Before you could finish, the sharp chime of your shop’s clock broke the moment, announcing the late hour. You glanced at it, startled. “Oh, it’s so late… I didn’t even realize.”

Aaron smiled, standing and grabbing his coat. “It is late,” he agreed, his tone still warm. “I should let you finish closing up.”

You stood as well, walking him toward the door, your hands twisting nervously in front of you.

Aaron paused at the door of the shop, his coat draped over his arm, his hand lingering on the handle. He didn’t want to leave—not yet. Not when the air between you felt so charged, so full of something unspoken.

“Thank you again,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edges of your sleeves as if to steady yourself.

Aaron turned back to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m the one who should be thanking you—for tonight, for letting me see this side of you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but instead of looking away as you usually did, you stepped a little closer. There was a flicker of resolve in your gaze, something shy but daring, and it caught Aaron off guard.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—about you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his posture straightening as he watched you, waiting.

“You’re kind and thoughtful and… everything I didn’t think someone like you would be,” you continued, your blush deepening. “And it’s making it really hard to not want to kiss you right now.”

Aaron blinked, stunned for a moment by your boldness. His lips parted slightly, and then a warm, genuine smile spread across his face—a rarity for him, but one that felt entirely natural in this moment.

“Then don’t stop yourself,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

Your breath caught, but before your nerves could take over, Aaron closed the space between you, his hand brushing gently against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like he was memorizing every small detail. But when he felt you relax into him, your hands lightly gripping the front of his shirt, he let himself deepen it just slightly, his other hand settling lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his dark eyes searching yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough with honesty.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers still clutching his shirt. “I thought I was imagining it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You… being interested in me.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing along your jawline. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confessed. 

Your cheeks flushed again, but this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you surprised him again, your boldness returning. “Well, if that’s the case, you should probably kiss me again,” you said, your tone soft but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and his smile widened as he leaned in once more. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured before his lips found yours again.

This time, the kiss lingered, filled with a quiet intensity that made the world outside the shop disappear. When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, he smiled at you—genuine, warm, and entirely captivated.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, your smile shy but glowing. “You’d better,” you teased lightly.

Aaron chuckled again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice laced with quiet promise.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your voice filled with something hopeful and certain.

As Aaron walked out into the night, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. You had surprised him, challenged him, and made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in far too long. And he couldn’t wait to see where this path with you would lead.

Days later, Aaron Hotchner stood at the door of Sweet Beginnings once again, the soft glow from the shop's windows spilling out onto the quiet street. In his hand, he carried a bottle of wine he’d picked up on his way—a thoughtful gesture for what you’d described as a more casual date tonight. You had insisted he didn’t need to bring anything, but Aaron couldn’t help himself. He wanted to show you how much he cared and how much he valued this time with you.

When you opened the door, you were already smiling, your cheeks faintly flushed from the lingering warmth of the shop’s ovens. You were dressed comfortably—a soft sweater and jeans—but to Aaron, you looked as stunning as ever.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hi,” Aaron replied, his voice warm. He handed you the bottle, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “I thought this might pair well with dessert.”

You looked at the bottle and then back at him, “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice grateful.

“I wanted to,” Aaron said simply, his dark eyes steady on yours.

You smiled again, setting the bottle on the counter before turning back to him. “I was thinking,” you began, your voice tinged with nervousness, “instead of staying down here… maybe we could go upstairs? It’s more comfortable.”

Aaron blinked, momentarily surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t expected you to suggest something so intimate, but the idea of seeing more of your world—of being closer to you—was one he couldn’t resist.

“If you’re comfortable with that,” he said gently, his tone leaving the decision entirely up to you.

You nodded, your smile shy but certain. “I am,” you said softly, turning toward the back staircase. “Come on.”

Your apartment was as warm and inviting as the shop below, filled with soft colors, cozy textures, and personal touches. Aaron took it all in as you gestured for him to sit on the couch, your nervous energy evident as you moved about the small space.

“I thought we could have dessert up here,” you said, your voice light but a little rushed. “I made a tart earlier, and—”

“Take your time,” Aaron said gently, cutting through your flustered tone. “It’s perfect.”

You paused, looking at him as he settled onto the couch, his expression soft and encouraging. His presence had a way of grounding you, even as the tension between you began to build.

You busied yourself in the kitchen for a moment, retrieving the tart and plates before joining him on the couch. Your hands trembled slightly as you handed him a plate, and you avoided his gaze, afraid he’d see the way your shyness warred with the growing tension between you.

“This looks amazing,” Aaron said, his voice sincere as he took a bite. “You really do have a gift.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” you murmured. “It’s just something I’ve always loved doing.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. You could feel it—his intensity, the way he seemed to be taking in every detail. It made your heart race, the room feeling suddenly smaller.

After a few bites, Aaron set his plate down, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I wasn’t expecting to be invited up here,” he said softly, his tone measured but warm. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You laughed nervously, setting your own plate down. “I just thought… I don’t know. I wanted to share this part of me with you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I know it’s not much, but it’s… mine.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aaron said, his voice low. “Like everything about you.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the tension in the room becoming palpable. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the space between you that seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“I don’t know how you do that,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” Aaron asked, his tone soft but curious.

“Say things like that,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing deeper. “You make me feel like I’m… someone else. Someone braver than I am.”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t need to be anyone else,” he said firmly. “You’re already more than enough.”

The air between you felt electric, the pull undeniable. Your shyness kept you rooted in place, but the growing tension was impossible to ignore. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the edge of your sweater, your eyes darting to his lips before you quickly looked away.

Aaron noticed, his sharp instincts picking up on every subtle movement, every unspoken thought. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving you space while his own restraint was tested by the sheer pull he felt toward you.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words broke something in you—the careful wall you’d been holding up against the intensity of your feelings. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, your voice trembling but bold.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you said softly, your eyes locking onto his. “I just don’t know how to… do this.”

Aaron’s expression softened, and he reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to know,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The tension between you was unbearable now, your shyness colliding with the desire blooming in your chest. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, your lips brushing softly against his.

Aaron froze for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, but then his hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that was tender but filled with unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. Aaron’s dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Was that brave enough for you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned in to kiss you again. His answer was clear without needing words.

The space between you small but charged. His arm rested on the back of the couch, and though he wasn’t touching you, the closeness of his presence made your skin tingle.

You had leaned back after the kiss, trying to calm your racing heart, but Aaron’s eyes hadn’t left you. His steady, dark gaze followed every nervous movement of your hands as they fiddled with the edge of your sweater, every flutter of your lashes as you avoided his intense look.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded quickly, though your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “It’s just… you.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Me?”

You exhaled a shaky breath, finally daring to glance up at him. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the warmth in them gave you just enough courage to speak.

“You make me so flustered,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing even deeper. “The way you look at me… like right now. It’s… it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his head dipping slightly as if to meet your eyes more fully. “Overwhelming in a bad way?” he asked, his tone teasing but still gentle.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not bad. Just… I don’t know how to handle it. You make me feel like I’m about to melt when you look at me like that.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His hand moved from the back of the couch to rest lightly on your knee, the weight of it grounding you even as your heart raced faster.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “The way you get flustered, the way you blush when I say something—it’s… charming. Sexy, even.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment before looking away again, your fingers brushing nervously against your lap. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sexy before,” you whispered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Well,” Aaron said, leaning in slightly, his lips quirking into a small smile, “they should have. Because you are.”

Your breath caught, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks again. “Aaron…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat, but his patience and warmth made it impossible to hold back. “I want you,” you blurted out, your voice trembling but honest. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding… I don’t know. But I do. I really, really want you.”

Aaron’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly, though his smile remained. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” he said, his tone low but full of reassurance. “Hearing you say that? Knowing you feel that way? It’s… everything.”

You bit your lip, your fingers gripping your sweater tightly as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You just make me so nervous,” you admitted, your voice still trembling. “But I don’t want to be nervous. I want to be… confident. I want to be the kind of woman who can look at you and not completely fall apart.”

Aaron leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “Just be you,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “I like that you get nervous. I like that you’re shy. It makes every moment with you feel… real.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching at the sincerity in his voice. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” he said, his gaze steady. “You’re perfect just as you are. And if I’m making you melt just by looking at you…” His lips curved into a faint smirk, and his tone dropped slightly, “I’d say we’re off to a good start.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking through your nervousness, and Aaron smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. This time, you didn’t pull away or shy away from his intensity. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him, feeling the tension between you shift into something warm and electric.

When the kiss ended, you rested your forehead against his, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous?” Aaron echoed, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice tinged with teasing. “For my heart.”

Aaron chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I’ll have to handle it with care,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet promise.

Aaron’s forehead remained lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The weight of his hand on your cheek felt grounding, yet the tension between you still simmered, charged with an unspoken pull that neither of you could ignore.

“I mean it,” Aaron said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low but steady, filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. Not with me.”

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against his shirt, gripping lightly as though to steady yourself. “It’s just… it’s so new,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

Aaron pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His dark gaze was steady, reassuring, but there was something else in it now—a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. “Neither have I,” he admitted, his words honest and deliberate. “Not like this.”

Your eyes searched his, the sincerity in his voice making you feel both exposed and comforted all at once. “You… you make it feel easy,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Even when I’m nervous, even when I feel like I’m going to fall apart… you make it okay.”

Aaron���s lips quirked into a faint smile, his hand brushing softly along your cheek. “That’s how you make me feel, too,” he said, his voice low and warm.

The air between you thickened, the tension growing as his thumb traced slow, gentle circles against your skin. You leaned into his touch, your breath hitching as your body betrayed the restraint you were trying to hold onto.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I want you to kiss me again.”

His gaze darkened slightly, and his smile softened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he leaned in. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve wanted anything else all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The kiss that followed was deeper this time, more purposeful. Aaron’s other hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch firm but not demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pressing for more, but his presence alone made your skin tingle and your heart race.

You felt your shyness melting away under his attention, replaced by a slow-burning confidence that you hadn’t realized was there. Your hands moved from gripping his shirt to sliding up toward his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, the silence filled with the sound of your shared breaths. Aaron’s forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closed for a moment as though he were steadying himself.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said softly, his voice rough with restraint. “But I can’t lie—it’s taking everything in me not to lose myself in you right now.”

Your blush deepened, but instead of retreating, you surprised yourself by speaking boldly. “I don’t want to rush either,” you said, your voice trembling but certain. “But… I don’t want you to hold back, either. I want to feel this. I want to feel you.”

Aaron’s eyes snapped open, his dark gaze locking onto yours as though he were searching for any sign of doubt. But when he saw none, his lips curved into a small, almost reverent smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low but steady.

You nodded, your fingers tightening slightly on his shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Aaron leaned in again, his kiss slower this time, more deliberate. His hands moved gently, one brushing along your back while the other cradled your face. Every touch felt like a question, and every response from you—whether it was a sigh, a soft touch, or the way you leaned into him—was an answer.

The tension between you no longer felt like a battle but a dance, one that neither of you wanted to end. For the first time, you felt yourself fully surrendering to the moment, to him, letting go of the nervousness that had always held you back.

The warmth of Aaron’s touch grounded you, even as the tension between you spiraled into something electric. His hands, steady yet gentle, moved with purpose—one cradling your cheek, the other brushing down your back, pulling you closer. Every kiss seemed to deepen the connection, erasing the space between you both physically and emotionally.

You leaned into him fully, your hands sliding over his chest and up to his shoulders, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground. Your nervousness was still there, but it was drowned out by the intensity of the moment, by the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world.

Aaron pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven as he searched your eyes. “You can tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Anytime. I need you to know that.”

You shook your head quickly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His gaze softened, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your shyness battling with the growing desire blooming in your chest. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises. His hands began to roam, exploring cautiously but with intent, and every touch sent a new wave of heat through your body.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands slid into his hair, your fingers curling as you tilted your head, giving him better access. The sound of your sighs, soft and breathy, seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more confident.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours once again. “Say the word,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze. “I want you,” you said softly but firmly, your hands sliding down to his chest. “All of you.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, one filled with warmth and desire. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before standing, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. The sudden motion made you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carried you toward your bedroom.

The tension between you reached its peak as he laid you down gently, his touch careful but sure. His gaze lingered on you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart race. You reached for him, pulling him closer, and as his lips found yours again, the world around you seemed to melt away.

And then, as the night deepened, the rest was lost to the soft whispers of your names and the quiet, shared discovery of one another, every barrier between you finally falling away.

Time seemed to slow as Aaron’s lips pressed against yours, each kiss deeper, more tender than the last. His touch was reverent, like he was memorizing every curve, every sigh, every part of you that made you uniquely you. The tension between you wasn’t rushed or frenzied but deliberate, a dance of unspoken words and shared longing.

His hands, warm and steady, mapped your body like a treasured discovery. Every brush of his fingers was gentle but purposeful, igniting a warmth in you that spread like the soft glow of dawn breaking over the horizon. He treated you with a care you’d never known, as though you were something precious he’d been entrusted to protect.

Aaron’s gaze, dark and full of emotion, never left yours. Even as his lips traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that made your breath hitch, he watched you, his eyes seeking your every reaction. You felt seen in a way that made you both shy and emboldened, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, every movement a reflection of the care and trust you’d built together. His whispered words, soft and low against your ear, sent shivers down your spine, and when he murmured your name, it sounded like a prayer.

You gave yourself to him completely, your hands exploring his strong, steady frame, marveling at the way his body responded to your touch. Each sigh, each quiet moan that escaped his lips, felt like an answer to the questions you didn’t know you were asking.

The way he held you, the way his touch lingered as though savoring every moment, made your heart swell. You’d never felt so adored, so cherished. The tenderness in his movements spoke of more than desire—it was devotion, a quiet declaration of everything he couldn’t yet put into words.

As the night deepened, you found yourself lost in him, and he in you. The world outside your small apartment faded into nothingness, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths and the gentle hum of something deeper—something neither of you could deny.

And when the crescendo came, it wasn’t with fireworks or grand gestures but with a soft, shared sigh that spoke of contentment and connection. His forehead rested against yours, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he whispered your name one more time, his voice filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, seen, and completely loved. It wasn’t just a joining of bodies—it was the start of something bigger, something that neither of you could deny. And as the night gave way to the quiet stillness of early morning, you knew that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

The first thing you noticed was the warmth—the kind that wasn’t just from the heavy quilt draped over you but from the solid presence beside you. Aaron’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand resting gently against your stomach. The steady rhythm of his breathing brushed softly against the back of your neck, grounding you in a way that felt almost surreal.

The faint golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Everything felt still, suspended in a quiet kind of intimacy that made you hesitant to move. For a moment, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly over Aaron’s hand where it rested against you.

“You’re awake,” his voice came, low and rough from sleep.

You turned slightly, your cheeks warming at the realization that he’d caught you watching the way his fingers curled against your stomach. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I’ve been awake for a while,” he admitted, his arm tightening slightly around you. “I didn’t want to move and risk waking you.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest ache in the best way. You turned in his arms so you could face him, your eyes meeting his. His dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and the faint stubble on his jaw only added to the softness in his expression.

“Hi,” you said shyly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi,” he replied, his own lips curving into a faint smile. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch slow and deliberate.

You looked down for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “Last night…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Aaron’s thumb brushed lightly along your jawline, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. “It was perfect,” he said simply, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “Because it was you.”

Your breath hitched at the honesty in his voice, and you felt the familiar heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re too good at saying things like that,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his chest.

“I only say what I mean,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was warm, filled with the unspoken connection that had grown steadily between you. You reached up tentatively, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” you admitted softly. “Not with anyone.”

Aaron leaned into your touch, his eyes softening as he covered your hand with his. “Neither have I,” he said, his voice low but certain. “And I don’t want it to stop.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “It scares me,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “How much I feel for you. How much I… want this.”

Aaron’s hand slid down to rest against your waist, his grip firm but comforting. “It scares me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. “But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time, the fear that had been lurking at the edges of your mind seemed to fade. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when he pulled you closer, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet morning light, the world outside your small apartment seeming far away. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel it fully—the hope, the joy, and the undeniable certainty that you had found something worth holding onto.

“Time for me to get up and open the shop,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “And for you to get to work.”

Aaron sighed, his grip on you loosening reluctantly. “I suppose we can’t stay here all day.”

As you slipped out of bed and began to get ready, Aaron remained stretched out, watching you with a quiet intensity. You moved around the room with a blend of shyness and ease, glancing back at him occasionally, your cheeks flushing each time you caught his gaze.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly as you tied your apron over your casual dress.

“I am,” Aaron admitted unapologetically, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. “You make it hard not to.”

Your blush deepened, but you didn’t shy away this time.

At the BAU, Aaron Hotchner checked his watch as he sifted through a mountain of case files on his desk. He was already late for a briefing with the team, his morning a whirlwind of calls and paperwork. As he stood to leave, the familiar voice of Penelope Garcia carried across the bullpen.

“Hotch! Your favorite person is here—and no, it’s not me this time!”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised, and froze for a brief moment when he saw you standing beside Garcia, a tray of coffee in one hand and a small brown bag in the other. The sight of you in his office, your shy smile softening your features, made his heart tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

You. Here. For him.

Aaron crossed the room in quick strides, his expression softening as he approached. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he said gently, his voice dropping to a private tone meant just for you.

“I wanted to,” you replied softly, holding out the tray. “I know you’re busy, and I thought… maybe this could make your day a little easier.”

The sincerity in your voice, the quiet thoughtfulness of the gesture, struck something deep within him. Taking the tray, his fingers brushed yours briefly, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. “This means more than you know.”

Before he could say more, Penelope stepped in, her enthusiasm uncontainable. “And a pastry? Hotch, you’ve got a keeper!”

Aaron sighed lightly, glancing at Garcia with a faint shake of his head. “Garcia,” he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“What?” she said innocently, gesturing toward the tray. “I’m just stating facts.”

By now, JJ and Spencer had noticed the commotion and approached, curiosity evident in their expressions. JJ gave him a knowing look before turning her attention to you.

“You must be the owner of Sweet Beginnings,” JJ said warmly, extending a hand.

Aaron watched as you took the handshake, your shy smile making an appearance again. “I am,” you said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’ve got good taste, Hotch,” JJ teased, her gaze flickering back to him with a grin.

Aaron felt a faint warmth creep up his neck, but he kept his expression composed. “Let’s not make this a spectacle,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Spencer stepped forward next, his natural awkwardness on full display. “I’ve read about coffee shops like yours,” he began, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke. “They act as community hubs, reducing isolation and fostering social interaction. It’s a fascinating model.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted to you, watching as you smiled gently at Reid’s rambling. “That’s one of the reasons I started it,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. “I wanted it to feel like a place where people could feel at home.”

Hearing you speak about your passion made Aaron’s chest tighten. He’d always admired your gentleness, but seeing you hold your own in the midst of his team—your shyness balanced by quiet confidence—made him feel something deeper, something solid.

Penelope, never one to let a moment pass without commentary, clapped her hands together. “You have no idea how much joy this brings me. Hotch hasn’t smiled this much in years, and now you’re here with coffee? You’re a saint--Hotch, can we keep her?”

Aaron gave her a sharp look, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s enough, Garcia.”

You laughed softly, your blush deepening as you glanced at him. “I should probably let you get back to work,” you said, your voice still tinged with nervousness.

Aaron stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you toward the elevator, the rest of the team’s chatter fading into the background. When you reached the doors, Aaron turned to face you fully, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you—your shy smile, the faint blush still lingering on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For coming here. For this.” He gestured toward the coffee tray still in his hand.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, though your smile told him otherwise.

“It’s not,” Aaron replied firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve made my day better in more ways than one.”

The elevator doors opened, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “I’ll see you soon?” you asked softly, your eyes meeting his.

“You will,” Aaron said, his voice steady but warm.

As the doors closed and you disappeared from view, Aaron stood there for a moment, the coffee tray still in his hands. His morning had started as chaos, but now, with the simple gift of your presence, everything felt lighter.

He returned to his desk, Penelope’s teasing grin already waiting for him. But as he sipped the coffee you’d brought, Aaron couldn’t help but think about how seamlessly you’d begun to fit into his life—and how much he wanted to keep it that way.

The weeks that followed were a blur of quiet mornings, shared laughter, and the slow, steady building of something undeniable between Aaron Hotchner and you. Each date felt like peeling back another layer, revealing more of who you both were beneath the carefully constructed walls life had required you to build.

Aaron found himself drawn to your world—the warm, comforting atmosphere of your coffee shop, the way you spoke about your love for creating a place where people could feel at home. He loved the way your cheeks flushed when he surprised you with flowers or when he praised your baking. You, in turn, found yourself mesmerized by the way Aaron balanced his intensity with softness, his protectiveness with vulnerability. He opened up to you in ways you knew were rare, sharing pieces of his past, his fears, and his hopes for the future.

The intimate moments between you grew, each one deepening the connection. There were stolen kisses in the quiet of your apartment, his hands gentle but firm as he pulled you closer. There were late-night phone calls when his cases kept him away, his voice low and soothing as he talked to you about everything and nothing. There were mornings where he lingered at your shop before work, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of you bustling behind the counter.

Your shyness began to ease in his presence, replaced by a quiet confidence that bloomed under his care. Aaron, in turn, found himself leaning into the romance of it all—bringing you small gifts that reminded him of you, planning thoughtful dates where he could watch your eyes light up, and holding you close as though afraid to let go.

It wasn’t long before you both realized the depth of what was forming between you. Love, quiet and sure, began to weave its way into your lives. And while neither of you said the words out loud just yet, it was clear in the way he looked at you, in the way you reached for him, and in the way you both felt when you were together: like you had finally found a home in each other.

The day you met Jack was unassuming but transformative for Aaron. He had been nervous, more than he cared to admit, as he brought his son to your coffee shop one sunny Saturday morning. Jack, curious and wide-eyed, had taken to you immediately, charmed by your gentle demeanor and the way you spoke to him with such genuine care. 

You had knelt to his level, offering him a cookie you’d saved for him and asking about his favorite games with such ease that it made Aaron’s heart ache. Watching the two of you laugh together over a shared joke—or seeing Jack cling to your hand as you guided him behind the counter to show him the “secret bakery magic”—solidified something deep within Aaron. 

In that moment, he saw not only how naturally you fit into his world but how much joy you brought to his son’s life as well. It was as if a missing piece he hadn’t realized he was searching for had finally clicked into place, and for the first time in years, Aaron allowed himself to hope for a future filled with the love and warmth you brought so effortlessly into their lives.

The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet of your apartment as Aaron sat on your couch, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up after a long day. The scent of tea lingered in the air, the steam curling lazily from the cup you’d placed in front of him. He felt the weight of the day still on his shoulders, but the warmth of your home—and your presence—was already easing it away.

“You wouldn’t believe the guesses I got today about the ‘secret ingredient’ in my apple tarts,” you said with a small laugh, sitting across from him in the armchair. “Cinnamon, nutmeg… someone even suggested lavender.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Lavender? In an apple tart?”

“I know,” you said, laughing as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I couldn’t tell her the truth. It’d ruin the mystery.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, your laughter soft and genuine, the way your hands moved expressively when you got caught up in a story. It was the kind of moment he never thought he’d have again—simple, comforting, and entirely yours.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

You looked up at him, tilting your head slightly. “At what?”

“Making things feel lighter,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Easier.”

You blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips. “I think you just need more nights off.”

Aaron shook his head, his eyes not leaving yours. “It’s not about nights off,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

The words came so easily, so naturally, that they surprised even him. He hadn’t planned to say them, but now that they were out there, he realized just how deeply he meant them.

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sweater. “Aaron…”

“Come here,” he said softly, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit next to him, leaning into his side. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was filled only with the soft ticking of the clock and the quiet hum of the heater. Aaron’s fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I need to tell you something.”

You turned your head slightly, your wide eyes meeting his. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your arm as he searched for the right words. But then, as he looked at you—your shy smile, your gentle eyes, the quiet strength in the way you leaned into him—he realized there was no point in holding back.

“I love you,” he said, the words quiet but firm. There was no hesitation in his tone now, no doubt. “I didn’t plan to say it, not tonight, but it’s true. And I need you to know that.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you stared at him, your cheeks flushed with emotion. “You… you do?”

“I do,” Aaron said, his voice softening as his hand moved to cup your cheek. “I know it’s fast, and I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’ve brought something into my life I didn’t think I’d ever have again. And I mean it—every word.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Aaron exhaled, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a rare, genuine smile that you knew was just for you. “You make me feel like myself again,” he murmured. “Like I’m not just… getting through the day.”

“You make me feel the same way,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

In the quiet warmth of your apartment, with your heartbeats steady and aligned, Aaron realized that he hadn’t just fallen in love with you—he had found a future he hadn’t dared to hope for. And with you in his arms, it felt as though everything in his world had finally fallen into place.

The months that followed were filled with a quiet joy that neither of you had anticipated but both of you cherished. Aaron found himself carving out moments of calm amidst the chaos of his work, prioritizing time with you in a way that felt natural, even necessary. You, in turn, opened up in ways you never thought possible, letting him see every piece of you—your dreams, your fears, your past—and finding that he met each one with unwavering patience and care.

One evening, after a long day for both of you, Aaron arrived at your apartment with Jack in tow. The boy had insisted on bringing you a drawing he’d made—two stick figures holding hands, standing in front of a coffee shop with the words “Y/N and Dad” scrawled in his careful handwriting. The look on Aaron’s face as Jack handed it to you, beaming with pride, spoke volumes. He was proud of the life you were all building together, the way you had seamlessly become a part of his and Jack’s world.

Later that evening, as Jack dozed off on your couch, Aaron helped you clean up after dinner. The domesticity of the moment struck him—his sleeves rolled up, you at the sink rinsing dishes, both of you working in quiet harmony. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was home.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Aaron asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You glanced over your shoulder, your brow furrowing slightly at the question. “I do,” you said softly, drying your hands on a towel. “Why?”

Aaron turned to face you, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Because I see it. With you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting as you struggled to find the words to respond. Before you could speak, Aaron stepped closer, his hands settling lightly on your waist.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “A home. A partner. Someone who makes me want to be better every single day.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, and you reached up to rest your hands on his chest. “Aaron…”

“I love you,” he said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “I’ve loved you since I walked into your shop for the first time, even if I didn’t realize it then. And I’ll keep loving you—for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you let out a soft, breathy laugh as you nodded. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I always will.”

Aaron leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The challenges of his job, the weight of his past—they didn’t disappear, but they no longer defined him. You were his future, and he was yours.

As Jack stirred on the couch, mumbling something about cookies in his sleep, Aaron pulled back with a soft chuckle. “I should probably put him to bed,” he said, his forehead resting against yours for a moment longer.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “Stay,” you said softly. “Both of you. Stay tonight.”

Aaron’s eyes softened, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a quiet certainty. “We’d like that,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

That night, as the three of you settled into the cozy rhythm of your home, Aaron couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new. Not just a chapter, but an entirely different book—one filled with love, laughter, and a life he hadn’t dared to dream of until he met you. And as he held you close, with Jack asleep nearby, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

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@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

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@justyourusualash

[surielstea]

A Warriors Heart

Based on a request.

Pairing: Virgin!Azriel x Virgin!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been mated for a long time but have yet to act on it. What happens when alone in a house together?

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | tender | loss of virginity | fingering | praise kink | creampie

A.Note: Sooo the original request asked for an Experienced!Reader but I was struggling writing a dynamic like that so here’s this, hopefully it’s okay. Also, Rhys and Reader are half-siblings!

6.2k word count.

The house was silent. A rare occurrence. Even when the three Illyrians weren't crowding it with their banter and heavy footsteps, Rhysand's mother's soft humming usually drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans. That noise, that life, filled every corner of our home, like a heartbeat.

But tonight, the silence felt heavier. My brother and Cassian were away on an overnight expedition to another war camp, and Rhysand's mother had been summoned to the Night Court by my father. It was just Azriel and me. Alone.

I had known Azriel was my mate since I was eight years old, the bond threading between us as easily as a ribbon slipping through fingers. I had accidentally accepted it when I was fifteen, too young to understand the weight of what I'd done. We'd made a pact soon after, two awkward teenagers fumbling to make sense of the unshakable connection between us. Friends could be soulmates, we told ourselves. We swore to keep the bond platonic, to navigate it without letting it define us.

But no matter how much I tried to ignore it, the bond shimmered between us like sunlight on a blade, sharp and undeniable. Azriel's protective nature—his tendency to linger closer than necessary, to bristle when someone dared flirt with me—had always been my undoing. And while he could command a room with a single glance, I had no doubt he saw me as nothing more than the sister of his closest friend.

It was why I'd spent the last seven years pulling away, trying to temper the ache that came from unrequited feelings. Even now, with all the years and distance between us, I didn't know how to act when it was just the two of us.

I didn't hear his footsteps. I never did. But his voice, soft and steady, broke the silence as I stirred the stew on the stove.

"Smells good."

I jumped, whirling to find Azriel leaning casually against the doorway, his hazel eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"Gods," I exhaled, clutching the wooden spoon to my chest like a lifeline. "You have to stop sneaking up on me."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a rare, fleeting thing that made my heart skip. "Can't help it," he replied, shrugging one broad shoulder. "Your reaction is worth it every time."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the stove, determined to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck.

Azriel moved closer, his steps silent, until I could feel the faint heat of him behind me. He leaned in, just enough for his breath to brush the back of my neck as he peered over my shoulder.

"Stop looming," I muttered, swatting at him half-heartedly with the spoon.

He pulled back with a low chuckle, the sound curling in my chest and settling there, stubborn and unrelenting.

As he retreated to the sitting room, I focused on the stew, determined not to let my racing heart betray me. But even with his back turned, I could feel him—his gaze like a tether, steady and unyielding.

I hummed a tune under my breath, one my mother always sang while cooking. The melody was soft and familiar, a distraction from the weight of the quiet house and the man watching me from across the room.

By the time I ladled the stew into bowls, the tension in my chest had coiled tight. I turned, the bowls in hand, and froze.

Azriel was leaning back on the couch, his legs stretched out before him, wings draped lazily over the sides of the cushions. But his eyes were locked on me, dark and burning, as though he could see straight through me.

"Ready," I murmured, more to break the silence than anything, nudging a drawer closed with my hip as I grabbed two sets of silverware.

I set the bowls on the table and slid into my chair, pretending not to notice the way Azriel settled into the seat beside me instead of the one across. The scent of him—night-chilled mist and cedar—washed over me, and I busied myself arranging the utensils just to keep my hands from shaking.

He started eating without a word, and I followed suit, though each bite felt like a struggle under the weight of his presence.

It was almost odd watching him eat food I made, so reminiscent of how mates accept the bond. Even if the tether between us was always at the back of my mind, nights like these brought them front and center as if laid out on the table in front of me.

"Thank you," he said after a few minutes, his voice low. Almost shy.

I glanced at him, startled. "It's no bother," I replied quickly, brushing off the gratitude. "I know you've been training all day. You needed it."

Azriel tilted his head, studying me with a look that made my stomach flip. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but he only nodded and returned to his meal.

"I'll make you breakfast in the morning," he said finally, the promise simple but weighted.

I blinked at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Deal."

We ate in silence after that, though it wasn't uncomfortable. The sound of silverware against bowls filled the space, grounding us. But I couldn't ignore the way his gaze kept flicking toward me like he was holding back something he didn't know how to say.

Finally, I set my spoon down and looked at him directly. "What?"

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that always made my pulse stutter. "Nothing."

"Az," I warned, dragging his name out like a thread.

His smirk deepened, but his eyes softened, the light in them catching like a spark in the dim kitchen. "I missed this. Just the two of us."

Heat crawled up my neck. "Is it so different than when Rhys and Cass are here?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "You tell me." He smirks. "You don't usually stare at me so much when they're around."

The words struck something deep, a soft ache I hadn't realized was there. I looked away, focusing on my bowl. "Maybe you just haven't been paying attention."

His wings shifted slightly, a rustle of leather against wood. "I always pay attention." The quiet conviction in his voice made me pause, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. "You seem so busy avoiding me that you don't realize how often I'm watching you."

I dared a glance at him, and the way he was looking at me—like I was something worth watching, worth knowing—stole the breath from my lungs. "Now you just sound obsessed with me," I replied, attempting to keep my tone light.

"And if I am?"

I quickly dropped my gaze, grabbing my spoon like it could anchor me. But the tension in the air didn't ease, and I knew—no matter how many years we'd spent pretending otherwise—that the bond was still there, pulling us closer with every passing moment. "Then I'd tell you to find someone else," I say, my pulse fluttering.

"No," he added casually, "you'd miss me if I wasn't here to keep you company."

I snorted, rolling my eyes to mask the sudden skipping in my chest. "You mean to annoy me, right?"

"Same thing." He grinned, his rare smile brightening his usually stoic face, dimples softening his features and making my stomach knot.

I shook my head, trying not to laugh as I resumed eating. "You're unbelievable."

"C'mon, admit it. You'd be so lonely in this house without me as entertainment." His voice was softer now, and when I glanced at him, his expression had shifted. The teasing was still there, but beneath it was something warm, something real.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening again. "I hate to ruin your fantasy but you're not exactly a great source of entertainment."

"Do you want me to be?" he said, and the way his voice dipped sent a shiver down my spine.

We fell back into silence after that, but it wasn't the same quiet as before. This time, the air between us felt charged, every glance and shift of movement loaded with something unspoken.

As we finished our meal, Azriel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied me. "So, what's for dessert?"

I scoffed at him. "Dessert?"

"Yes, dessert," he said, as though it were obvious. "You cooked dinner, so dessert is next. That's how it works, isn't it?"

I gave him a flat look. "You're awfully demanding for someone who just promised to make me breakfast."

"I like to think of it as balancing the scales," he replied smoothly. "Besides, I'm in the mood for something sweet."

The way he said it made my stomach flip, though I tried to keep my expression neutral. "Well, unless you're planning to bake something yourself, you're out of luck."

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin in his hand. "What a shame. Guess I'll have to settle for your company instead."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I said, standing to clear the dishes, though I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

"Who said I was flattering you?" he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

"You can clean up dinner then, I'm going to go read," I say with a taunting smile.

"So I can't have dessert or your company?" He argued as I began retreating down the hall.

"I'll be in my room if you need me, shadow singer."

"Yes, ma'am." But his tone was anything but obedient. I reached my door, and when I glanced back at him, his smirk was firmly in place, his gaze following me like one of his shadows. I entered my room and closed my door with a finalizing shut.

I leaned against the door, letting out a shaky breath. My chest felt tight, the warmth of Azriel's gaze still lingering on my skin. It was always like this with him—subtle, unspoken, charged. And yet, neither of us ever dared to cross that invisible line.

Until tonight, maybe.

The sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen echoed faintly through the house, proof that he had actually listened to me. I smirked to myself, shaking my head as I moved toward my bed.

I plucked my book from my nightstand, letting his gaze and words fizzle away, forcing myself to focus on the story in my hands.

It was hard not to think of him, he was technically a part of me after all. The tether between us was dusty and untouched, but somehow pulsing with life. I hadn't meant to, but I tugged on that bond, and the noise in the kitchen halted entirely.

Before I could weigh the fallout of my actions there was a knock on my door, soft and hesitant.

I slipped from the bed, still clutching my book just for something for my hands to do. I opened the door before I could second guess myself, revealing Azriel leaning against the frame of it. "You finished with the dishes already?" I say with a tilt of my head.

"No, I—you called me in here," He said with a crease in his brow.

"I didn't say anything?" I mutter.

"But you did, the bond," He attempts to explain and I cringe, hating to watch him fumble around this.

"I didn't mean to," I confess with a slight smile.

I stepped back instinctively, letting him into my room before the vulnerability of the moment could choke me. Azriel hesitated at the threshold, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His shadows coiled restlessly around his shoulders, mirroring the tension in his jaw. Finally, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"You didn't mean to," he echoed, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

I shook my head, gripping the book tighter. "I've been doing well, haven't I? Not tugging on it? Not pulling you into something you didn't ask for?"

Azriel's gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unyielding. "Something I didn't ask for?" His wings shifted slightly, the leather whispering in the quiet. "You think I don't feel it, too? That I haven't felt it every day since I was sixteen?"

I blinked, his words striking me like a lightning bolt. He took a step closer, and the air between us charged, crackling with everything we'd been avoiding for years. "You think you're the only one pretending this doesn't exist? That it doesn't rip me apart every time I'm near you?"

The rawness in his tone stole the breath from my lungs. "Az... I didn't know. You—" I swallowed hard. "You've always seemed so controlled, indifferent to it."

He let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound cutting through the room. "Because I had to be. Because if I wasn't, I'd—" He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his dark hair. His wings flared slightly as if he was fighting the urge to pace. "You have no idea what you've done to me. And when you pulled on the bond just now, well it's a shock I can even find words despite the aching in my heart."

My heart thundered in my chest, the bond between us humming, alive and insistent. "Azriel," I murmured, barely able to meet his gaze. "I didn't mean to—"

"Stop apologizing," he interrupted, stepping closer again, his hazel eyes burning into mine. "Don't you understand? I want you to pull on it. I want to feel you. To be near you."

My lips parted, but no words came out. He was so close now, his heat wrapping around me like a second skin. The scent of him—cedar and night-chilled mist—was intoxicating, pulling me under, but I was far from drowning.

"I thought you wanted me to ignore it, and I tried my best," he continued, his voice quieter now, trembling with restraint. "But then you went out of your way to keep your distance. And it drove me insane. Do you know how hard it is to love who doesn't feel the same?"

My breath hitched, his confession settling over me like a second bond. "You—what?"

He smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. "Don't make me say it again."

My knees felt weak, my grip on the book tightening to keep from falling. "I thought..." I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "I thought you only tolerated me because of my brother."

Azriel's wings flared again, a sudden, restless movement. "Rhys has nothing to do with this. He never has."

I stared at him, my heart racing, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and hope. "Azriel," I whispered his name a prayer, a plea.

He reached for me then, his hand hesitating before brushing my cheek. His touch was warm, grounding, and the bond between us thrummed in response, a living thing that refused to be ignored.

"I'm done pretending," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "If you don't want this that's fine, I'll distance myself. But if you do—"

I didn't let him finish. I dropped the book, my hands finding the soft material of his shirt as I yanked him closer, crashing my lips to his.

Azriel let out a surprised noise, a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling in my stomach. His wings flared wide, his shadows scattering as he kissed me back with a ferocity that stole my breath. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melted into his warmth, into the strength of him.

I gasped when his lips left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Just us," he whispered the words sacred, a vow.

"Us," I breathed, threading my fingers into his hair, tugging gently. "Always."

He lifted me then, his hands firm on my thighs as he carried me to the bed. He laid me down gently, his body pressing against mine as he kissed me again, slower this time, reverent.

My hands roamed over him, tracing the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his muscles. He shuddered under my touch, his wings trembling as they curled protectively around us.

"I've never—" he murmured against my lips, his voice ragged as I cut him off.

"Neither have I," I whispered, arching into him. "I trust you, Az."

Something in his eyes softened at that, the love and need in them so intense it made my chest ache. Then he kissed me again, and there was no more room for words.

Just us. Just this.

We were a fumbling mess, equally awkward as we were clueless. But I wouldn't have changed anything about it. Because I finally had him, his lips were on mine and his hands held me.

I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, pulling at the back of his shirt, yanking it up, needing my hands on his bare skin. He pulled away from the kiss to get it over his head, discarding it on my bedroom floor.

His body hovered over mine, his wings curling inward like a shelter, cocooning us in a space where only we existed. My hands roamed the expanse of his bare chest, marveling at the strength there, the warmth that radiated from him. His muscles tensed and relaxed under my touch, a shiver rippling through him as my fingers explored.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine again, this kiss softer, slower. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice a low rasp against my mouth. The vulnerability in his hazel eyes made my chest ache.

I cupped his face, smoothing my thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." My voice trembled, but it carried the weight of truth. "It's always been you, Az."

Something in him broke at my words. His forehead dropped to mine, his breath shuddering as he let out a soft laugh, tinged with disbelief. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

"I think I've got some idea," I whispered, my hands slipping to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair.

His lips found mine again, but this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. His kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against mine as his hands began to explore, sliding down my sides, tentative but firm. Each touch sent a jolt of heat through me, my body arching into him instinctively.

When his hand skimmed under the hem of my nightgown, his fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist, I gasped against his lips. He stilled, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "Tell me if I—if you need me to stop," he said, his voice a strained whisper.

I shook my head, a soft smile tugging at my lips. "Don't stop. Please, Az."

He exhaled shakily, his hands more confident now as he lifted my nightgown. I helped him pull it off, and he paused to take me in, his gaze sweeping over me like a caress. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe, as though he couldn't believe this moment was real. His fingers brushed over my collarbone, down to my ribs, and I trembled under his touch.

"You're allowed to touch me," I said softly, my cheeks warming under his intense gaze. "I want you to."

His shadows curled around my wrists, feather-light, as though they couldn't resist the temptation of me either. "You're, soft," he murmured, an uneasiness in his eyes that made me realize why he was so hesitant. I took his hand in mine, running my thumb over a scar.

"Touch me, Az." My voice was a breathless plea as I guided his scarred hand to my covered breast, craving the feel of him everywhere. His breath hitched, but the hesitation in his eyes melted away as his hands explored my sides, fingertips trailing heat over my waist. His thumbs brushed against the underside of my bra, and my breath faltered. He froze, his gaze meeting mine, searching for any sign of doubt.

When he found none, his lips tilted in a barely-there smile, reverence written across his features. He reached behind me, his fingers fumbling with the clasp, his brow furrowing in concentration. When the garment finally slipped free, I flushed, exposed under his gaze.

His wings trembled, his eyes darkening with barely restrained desire. "You're perfect," he whispered, the words soft, as though they were meant for no one but himself.

I swallowed, my heart thundering as I reached for him, pulling him down until our bodies met. The heat of his skin burned against mine, a delicious contrast that sent sparks through every nerve. His lips found my neck, pressing kisses along my skin that grew wetter and hotter as he made his way down. My head fell back as he trailed lower, his mouth closing over my breast.

A soft cry escaped me, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly. He froze, pulling back just enough to look at me, concern flickering across his features. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I whispered, my voice shaky but insistent. "It—it feels good, Az."

Relief flooded his expression, and his lips curved into a small, teasing smirk. "Good," he murmured before returning to his task, his tongue flicking experimentally, his teeth grazing gently as he learned what made me gasp and arch into him.

My hands explored the expanse of his back, the muscles beneath his skin flexing and rippling under my touch. I dragged my fingers lower, to the base of his wings, earning a low groan from him that vibrated through my chest.

"You're sensitive there," I noted, a teasing lilt to my voice.

He let out a shaky laugh, his breath fanning across my skin. "You have no idea."

I grinned but left the spot alone for now, my hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him back up. Our lips met again, his tongue brushing against mine, tasting me, exploring me. His kiss was consuming, and I let myself sink into it, reveling in the way he took control, how he kissed as though he'd waited lifetimes for this.

I trailed my hands down his chest, my fingers mapping every ridge and dip of muscle until I reached the waistband of his pants. My hand slipped beneath the fabric, but his scarred fingers covered mine, halting my movements.

"Are you sure?" His voice was hoarse, his forehead pressed against mine, his breathing uneven.

"Yes," I murmured, one hand tugging gently on his hair to pull him closer. "I want all of you, Azriel. I've always wanted you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his eyes stealing my breath. "It'll hurt," he warned softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I know," I said, cupping his cheek with one hand, my thumb brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. "But every time after this will be perfect," I added, a quiet promise in my voice.

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. He exhaled deeply, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Every time after this," he echoed, his tone laced with awe.

Still, his hand didn't release mine. "We have to get you ready first," he said, his voice gentler now, the determination in his gaze sending a thrill through me.

My face burned, but I nodded, moving my hand to his shoulder and digging my nails into his back as he slid my panties down my thighs. The cool air kissed my heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of his touch.

He started slow, his fingers sliding through my folds, teasing, testing. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more, but he gripped my thigh with his free hand, holding me in place.

"Azriel," I breathed, his name leaving my lips like a prayer.

"Here?" His voice was dark, teasing, as his thumb circled my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

"Yes—there," I gasped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle the noises spilling from me, but his shadows coiled around my wrist, pulling my hand away and pinning it above my head.

"No, love," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I'm done imagining what you sound like screaming my name." His breath ghosted over my skin as he pressed a kiss to my neck, finding the sensitive spot that made my body tremble. "Let me hear you," he uttered, his voice rough with desire.

A shaky exhale escaped me, and when he slipped a finger inside me, crossing a line that sent a burst of pleasure through my body, I did exactly as he'd imagined.

"Azriel," I moaned, my head tilting back into the pillows.

"That's my girl," he praised, the words making me clench around him.

His scarred fingers moved in a slow rhythm, in and out, each stroke deliberate, teasing. I could feel myself unraveling, the tension building in my core threatening to snap.

"I—I'm close," I whimpered, my voice barely audible.

"I know," he whispered against my neck, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin.

His shadows tightened their hold, pinning me further into the mattress as he placed his thumb on my clit, circling it hard. His mouth returned to my breast, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers.

Pleasure surged through me, and I cried out his name again, my legs trembling as he pushed me closer to the edge.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice like velvet, thick with want. "Let go for me, love."

And I did.

The tension snapped, and I shattered beneath him, pleasure crashing over me in waves. My body arched into his touch, and his name spilled from my lips in a breathless chant. He slowed his movements, coaxing me through it, his lips pressing gentle kisses to my skin.

When I finally came down, my chest heaving, I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his expression raw, reverent.

"My girl," he murmured again, his voice thick with emotion.

I reached for him, pulling him down until his forehead pressed against mine. "Azriel," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm ready."

His jaw tightened, eyes flicking over me once more but he nodded. His eyes didn't leave mine as he removed his pants and everything beneath it.

He hovered above me, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths as he shed the last of his clothing. My gaze followed the lines of his body, drinking in the powerful, carved planes of him. Shadows danced across his golden skin, softening the hard edges, but nothing could diminish the raw, unyielding strength that he carried.

"I've waited for this," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "For you."

Emotion swelled in my chest, tangling with the heat that still coursed through me. I placed my hand over his, pressing his palm more firmly against my face. "Then take me, Azriel. I'm yours."

Something broke in him then, the raw vulnerability in his gaze giving way to a feral hunger. He lowered himself onto his elbows, caging me beneath him. His wings flared slightly, a protective shroud as his forehead pressed to mine.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice softening as his lips brushed mine. "I'll stop if you ask me to."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He kissed me then, slow and tender, as though sealing a promise.

When he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze found mine again. His wings quivered as he asked one last, silent question. I answered by wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

The first press of him was exquisite—a stretch that burned but didn't break. My breath hitched, and Azriel froze, his hand gripping my hip as though anchoring himself.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yes," I said, my hands finding the base of his wings, the sensitive area so soft beneath my touch. I stroked gently, hoping to soothe the tension coiling in his body. "Keep going."

He nodded, his jaw clenched as he eased into me, inch by torturous inch. My body adjusted to him, the burn fading into a fullness that made my breath catch. Azriel buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

"Gods," he groaned, his voice breaking. "So fuckin' good."

I tightened my hold on him, my fingers slipping into his hair as I whispered, "Please, more."

He sunk in further, and once I was certain I couldn't take anymore he pushed in another inch. I moaned into his shoulder, relishing the burn of it, the pleasurable pain that sent me spiraling. Deeper, so deep. I lost words as he finally bottomed out, his hips meeting mine.

Tears shone in my eyes but I didn't tell him to stop, didn't want him to. It took me a moment to adjust, to so much as catch my breath. He lifted one of my legs up, shadows tethering it there, allowing the foreign stretch to lessen.

"Okay," I say shakily. "Mm, you can move." I nod, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, telling me he was here if I wanted him to stop. Then, he began to move, slow and steady, his hips rolling in a rhythm that built a delicious friction between us. Each thrust was deliberate, controlled, as though he was determined to make me feel every moment of my very insides molding to him, fitting around him and only him.

The pain faded entirely, replaced by waves of pleasure that built with every movement. I moaned his name, my nails digging into his back as he drove deeper, his wings trembling on either side of us.

"Look at me," he rasped, lifting his head. His eyes burned, molten with desire and something deeper, something that made my heart ache. "I want to see you."

I met his gaze, unable to look away as he moved inside me, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. The connection between us deepened, an unspoken bond that seemed to tighten with every thrust, every shared breath.

Azriel's hips maintained their slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending a delicious ripple of heat through my body. His wings trembled above us, shadows curling and twisting around my raised leg, holding me in place. The stretch still burned faintly, but it was a sweet ache, one that was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure.

“You're so tight," Azriel groaned, his voice hoarse, breaking on the words. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. "So perfect for me."

I whimpered, my chest heaving as I struggled to keep my eyes locked on his. It was hard—gods, it was so hard when he was staring at me like that, his hazel gaze molten, filled with a hunger that set me ablaze.

"Az," I breathed, his name a plea I didn't fully understand myself.

"What do you need, love?" he rasped, lowering his forehead to mine. His breath mingled with mine, his lips brushing against my mouth but never pressing fully. "Tell me. I'll give you anything."

I couldn't find the words, so I arched into him, my nails dragging down his back, the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath my hands enough to make me shiver. He groaned low in his throat, his hips stuttering before he caught himself, slowing once again.

"Careful," he murmured, his lips ghosting over my jaw. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not," I managed, my voice trembling as his next thrust hit something deeper, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair.

Azriel's smirk was dark, dangerous. "There?"

I nodded, unable to do much more than whimper as he shifted his angle slightly, rolling his hips in a way that made my entire body arch off the mattress. The pleasure was overwhelming, a slow, torturous build that had me teetering on the edge without ever quite falling over. "Faster," I begged, needing him to abuse the spot.

He did as told, quickening his pace, learning what made me gasp, what made my nails bite into his skin. His shadows curled around me, their cool touch a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies. They skimmed my sides, my thighs, whispering over my skin like a lover's caress.

"So beautiful," Azriel murmured, his voice filled with reverence. He dipped his head, his lips brushing over my collarbone, then lower, until his mouth closed over my breast yet again.

I cried out, my back arching as his tongue flicked over my sensitive peak. He lavished attention on me, his hand coming up to knead the other breast, his thumb teasing the hardened peak.

"Azriel," I moaned, my hands roaming over his back, his shoulders, desperate to anchor myself as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough as he nipped at the delicate skin of my chest.

"Azriel," I whimpered, my voice breaking on his name.

He groaned, his hips snapping harder against mine. The sudden force sent a shockwave through me, pleasure and pain twining together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing back up to my neck, finding that sensitive spot beneath my ear that made me shiver. "You take me so well."

I couldn't respond, couldn't think past the way he filled me, the way his body moved against mine. My free leg tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Azriel's pace quickened further, just slightly, enough to make my breath catch. His wings flared, the powerful appendages framing us, blocking out the world until there was nothing but him.

"Gods," he groaned, his voice breaking as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure there would be bruises. "You're going to ruin me, love."

I cupped his face, bringing his lips to mine in a searing kiss. He kissed me harder, his movements growing more desperate.

His pace grew more erratic, his hips snapping into mine with an urgency that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. His ministrations worked me mercilessly, every thrust pushing me higher until I felt like I might break apart entirely.

"Azriel," I gasped, my voice trembling as my nails raked down his back, desperate to ground myself against the storm building inside me.

His lips brushed my ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Let go, love," he rasped. "I've got you."

His words were my undoing. The coil inside me snapped, and I shattered, my body arching off the bed as the pleasure tore through me. I cried out his name, gripping his shoulders as the waves rippled over me, again and again.

"Fuck," Azriel groaned, his thrusts faltering as my body clenched tightly around him. I felt him tremble above me, his restraint slipping with every broken sound that left his lips.

Through the haze of pleasure, I reached for his wings, running my fingers along the sensitive ridges where they flared above us. His reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, his entire body shuddering.

"Gods," he ground out, his head dropping to my shoulder as I stroked the base of his wings, teasing the place I knew would unravel him completely. His hips snapped forward, deeper this time, and the broken groan that spilled from him sent another thrill through me.

"Az," I whispered, pulling him closer, my lips brushing his ear. "Inside.."

His head shot up, his molten gaze locking with mine as he searched my face. His jaw clenched, his restraint hanging by a thread as he rasped, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I breathed, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him down to me. "I want all of you, Azriel."

The last thread of his control snapped. With a low growl, he buried himself inside me to the hilt, his wings flaring wide as his release took him. His body tensed, a shuddering groan spilling from his lips as he gave me everything. I held him tightly, my hands stroking the base of his wings as he rode out his climax, his hips jerking with the aftershocks.

"Gods," he whispered hoarsely, his forehead pressing against mine as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're everything, love."

I smiled softly, brushing a strand of dark hair from his damp forehead. "And you're mine," I whispered, my voice steady despite the emotion swelling in my chest.

Azriel's lips found mine in a kiss so tender, so reverent, that it stole the breath from my lungs. He stayed inside me, his body pressed tightly to mine, as though he couldn't bear to let go just yet. And I didn't want him to.

Not now. Not ever.

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[temis-de-leon]

Pick me girls and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 2 - Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, suggestive, mentions of sex, mentions of violence and threats, mentions of concubines (no concubines, tho), implied marriage (??), jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, the most ooc out of every part of the series, Barbatos's part is based on one of his chats (A patissier's suffering?)

A/N at the end.

.

Diavolo

So the Devildom had concubines, what about it? It's not like Diavolo had any concubines. You were his only partner and, apparently, the first one in a long while. You had nothing to worry about.

Still, it was impossible not to feel so dejected when every single one of the demons in his court buttered him up so blatantly, not caring that you were next to him, arms linked and fingers intertwined.

And he smiled. Of course, what else could he do but smile? He had a duty to fulfill and that probably meant keeping certain people happy, right?

At least, that was the mantra in your head. Your heart kept hurting itself, but having a reason made it manageable.

"Well? Have you thought about it?"

You turned to your side and stared at the demoness beside you. She was mesmerizing and looking at her directly made you lose focus.

Have I thought about it? I haven't stop thinking about it.

"Remember that I'm acting on behalf of his wellbeing" she said sweetly, caressing your wrist like she wanted to flirt with you "And I guess I could make you happy too"

That made you laugh without an ounce of humor. Both of you knew she wasn't being serious about that one and you wondered why she said it in the first place. Making her Diavolo's concubine would make her his wife in everything but paper. Did she expect giving you orgasms would make you happier about it?

"Leave me alone" you whispered against your drink, not trusting your voice to act decently.

"How can you be so selfish?" she spat, leaving you speechless "This is for his own good. How long will you live, human? Do you expect him to be alone after your death? My only wish is to keep him company once you're gone and starting now would make the transition easier. He'll still love you, sure, but this way he could be happier. How can you not understand something so simple?"

A demon she was, you remembered. Had you been a regular human, you would've believed her concerned face, but to you it was obvious how impatient she was and how much she wanted to leave you there, alone and breaking, so she could finally speak to Diavolo.

"MC"

Both of you jumped, turning around just to see Barbatos's unfazed smile.

"Lord Diavolo asks for you" he informed when you didn't answer, too surprised to react. "Follow me if you please"

"If I may" intervened your companion, close to giving you a heart attack "I must speak to Prince Diavolo. It's an urgent matter"

The butler looked at you, asking for your permission, but you didn't know how to react. It seemed your throat decided to stop working at that exact moment.

"Very well, then"

The demoness eagerly jumped at his words, not wasting a second in leaving the corner you were occupying to look for the prince, who had finally stopped talking to his subjects and was sitting alone in his throne.

Barbatos stared at her before offering you his arm.

"You have nothing to worry about"

He seemed confident, so you believed him. However, the distance you walked towards the throne felt longer than ever.

Your boyfriend looked unnaturally serious at your arrival, an expression his face was not made for. It softened when he saw you, but, still, he didn't fully smile.

"My love, come here" he palmed his thigh and not in a million years would you reject that offer.

Diavolo smiled at the speed you moved, barely restraining himself from kissing you. Instead, he turned to the demoness and presented her to you.

"I believe you've met her already, MC. Did you know about her offer? Did you know she wishes to serve me?"

He patiently waited for your answer, holding you against his chest and caressing your hip bones with the pad of his fingers and the tip of his nails, making you shiver.

Serve? That's the word she decided to use? She wasn't lying, sure, but it was far from the intention she actually had.

"We talked about it" you said in the end.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the sounds of people still drinking and dancing. Diavolo and Barbatos looked at each other, having a conversation no one else could hear.

"I take it you rejected her proposition?"

Obviously.

You nodded and he cupped your face with a sad frown. Your heart skipped a beat.

"That's a pity, my love"

For a moment you moved away from him, too lost in your incredulity to answer or even acknowledge the crazy smile on the demoness's face, but, not even a second later, Diavolo brought you back to him and continued.

"She would've make a wonderful lady in waiting"

Huh?

"Wait, what?"

Both of you ignored the woman, who looked like she'd been slapped in the face with something rotten, which, in her mind, was probably accurate.

"I asked to serve you, my Lord, not the human..."

"Beware your words" interrupted Barbatos, his tail swishing behind him like a whip.

She stopped talking then, very obviously swallowing her opinions. Diavolo speaked again.

"By serving you, she'll serve me. Give her an opportunity to make you happy and, if she fails, we'll get rid of her"

What did he mean, get rid of her? You opened your mouth to ask, but he jerked his leg, making you jump. His smile was wide, but his eyes held a warning.

You decided to let it go.

"Okay"

Diavolo laughed as loud as he usually did, finally hugging you and ignoring both Barbatos's reprimanding glance and the demoness's sour expression.

But wait.

Wait.

He said 'lady in waiting'. Like... Uh...

Were you getting married?

Barbatos

'I'll be waiting in the classroom'

That's what his last message said.

And you'd never be dumb enough to reject that invitation. ¿Spending time with your boyfriend and eating his homemade cookies? Hell yeah!

You just had to be careful not to catch Beel's attention, avoiding the main hallways and hiding between the taller students, which were almost everyone.

By the time you finally arrived to the classroom (you got lost, but you'd never admit that to anyone), you were fairly sure all of your classmates had already gone home.

Alas, you were wrong.

Barbatos's figure was as composed as ever, but you knew him just enough to know how irritated he actually was. Were you this late? It was never your intention!

But no, no, that wasn't the root of the problem.

You knew her, kinda. Not personally, but you'd seen her a lot of times in the castle, cleaning plates in the kitchen or clearing up the table after one of Diavolo's dinner parties. She looked weird in the school's uniform instead of the one the maids used, but you guessed they too had to go to RAD, just like the brothers did.

So why did Barbatos look so uncomfortable?

Both of them stared at you when you entered, walking towards him while staring at her in search of an explanation.

"MC! You're finally here"

He smiled at you with candid eyes, discreetly holding your hand and restraining himself from kissing you in front of the girl, who cleared her throat to break the moment and grinned at Barbatos like you weren't there at all.

Foolish mistake if you'd ever seen one.

Your boyfriend frowned before turning in her direction, clearly giving her one last oportunity before kicking her out of there and reclaiming his alone time with you.

The girl purposely made herself meek, lowering her gaze as if making visual contact with him was too much, something you could totally understand.

"Master Barbatos, please, I'm begging you. I just wish to learn"

You raised your eyebrows and waited for his answer. Instead, she kept talking.

"I'll follow every one of your orders, sir, I promise" arms behind her back and body slightly swaying, you now understood why he was in the edge of snapping "The others don't appreciate you as much as I do. I'll be your best student"

He stared at her, you stared at her, she stared at him, batting her lashes with a weirdly fake innocent smile.

Her demeanor vanished when the Royal Butler spoke.

"I recomend you stop this nonsense at once" he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence "You're embarrassing yourself and Lord Diavolo's service's good reputation"

The poor maid gaped like a fish, although you weren't feeling bad for her.

You stayed behind him, closing the distance as much as possible while staring at her over his shoulder. If you ate a cookie now, would it be too much? He'd probably forgive you, but you'd rather not risk your chances.

"You will stay on cleaning duty as long as I say and you will stop the rumors that I know have been traveling all around the castle"

She lowered her gaze again, this time in submission and humiliation. His voice sounded venomous and you could swear the room's temperature dropped a few degrees. The air was still and smelled damped and rottening.

"If the gossip hasn't disappear by midnight, rest assured, I will make sure you keep your mouth fully shut"

The threat was clear in his words, something that shouldn't, but still surprised you. The maid trembled in response before bowing and running out the classroom.

You stared at the door in surprise, not turning around until he talked again.

"Do forgive me, my dear, but you know how much I dispise rats"

He sounded scarier than ever, letting his forked tongue slip between his teeth before he searched around the room, like he was trying to find more pests.

Then, he turned to you and smiled like nothing happened, holding a cookie to your mouth as the tips of his gloved fingers caressed your jaw.

"Let's forget about this ordeal, MC. After all, I saved these just for you"

Solomon

If there was something worse than feeling jealous, it was Solomon knowing you were jealous.

You thought you could catch a break, uh? Well, you couldn't be more wrong: your boyfriend knew the moment he saw you staring at that witch.

She was cute, you guessed? Nothing exceptional, but not hideous either. You wouldn't mind at all if not for the fact that she used her appearance like a nuclear weapon.

"Oh, you're so cute!" she'd told you once "I wish I was as cute as you!"

And at first you thought nothing of it. She was just being nice! A little weird about it, sure, but who wasn't weird in RAD?

Except, she wasn't looking at you when she said that, but, instead, at your boyfriend.

Of course, Solomon, unbothered as ever, was too engrossed in the cooking book he'd borrowed from the library to pay attention.

(Later that night you had to order takeout, but you were already counting on that).

The point was: she was trying too hard. You couldn't blame her, really, you dated Solomon for a reason; but still. She was getting on your nerves.

"I'm so dumb... I'll never get it! Solomon, can you help me with this?"

Opening a door with magic? Difficult? Yeah, right.

"I've never dated a human before... How is it, MC? I bet Solomon is a great boyfriend"

He has his moments.

"Solomon! Sit with me, I saved you a seat! Why? Oh, I concentrate better when you're here!"

Shit, could she concentrate at all?

"You're so powerful! You'll have to let me have him for a night, MC! He could teach me a couple of things..."

You closed your fist, staring at her with a frown while talking yourself out of mauling her across the table. You didn't need Lucifer's rants about impropriety and self restraint on top of all of this.

"MC and I have a lesson tonight" the sorcerer said with a polite smile, unusually kind eyes and an unreadable expression "Would you like to tag along?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, lowering her gaze in embarrassment, although you weren't sure if she was really embarrassed.

"Could we hang out alone, tho? I don't want MC to see how dumb I am. They're so much better than me! I bet I need you more than they do!"

Well, you didn't need to study with her to know she was dumb as bricks.

You looked at Solomon, opening your eyes so much in bewilderment that even the insides of your cornea were getting dry. Not a second later he turned to you, smiling with mischief, and then you remembered who were you actually dating.

"It's either this or nothing. Be in Purgatory Hall at 6, we won't be waiting for you"

The witch quickly looked at you, frustrated at his words. It wasn't ideal, you knew, thirdwheeling your crush and his partner in a study date, but what else did she expect? Every other option was plain stupid.

"Okay"

She snorted, trying to hide the disgust and disappoinment without much success. Once she left you alone, swaying her hips and her ponytail, you punched Solomon in the arm and reveled in his pain.

"MC!! Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax!"

You tried to choke him, but he hid his neck under his shoulders before you could lift yourself to reach him better. He knew you too well.

"MC, I have an idea! You'll like it, believe me!"

"Oh, really?"

"I swear!"

Once free from your attacks, Solomon avoided your eyes and stared at his hands. It took him a couple of seconds before he could look at you again, cheeks red, while he spoke from his heart.

"I couldn't care less about her attempts, MC, but she's obviously making you uncomfortable. I won't let this keep going if I can do something about it"

"But why did you invite her to our lesson, then?"

He laughed in a carefree manner, still blushing while he took your hands in his, looking at you like he was about to uncover a precious secret.

"As your teacher, I want you to explore your potential to the maximum"

His voice lowered to a whisper and you got closer to him, letting your body shiver when his breath caressed the skin of your neck.

"Say, MC, wouldn't you like to have your very own training dummy?"

Simeon

Oh, the privileges of being friends with the most powerful demons in the Devildom.

All you had to do was pout a little and act like you were miserable, missing the warmth of the sun and the familiar scenery of the human world. Of course, all of them knew you were exaggerating, but none would take the risk of actually making you sad.

So there you were, waiting for your drinks while Simeon sunbathed outside, sitting in one of those ornate metal chairs and writing some loose ideas for his next book in a napkin. After all, you'd be crazy if you ever went to the human realm without using the opportunity to have a date with your sweetheart of a boyfriend.

If not for the brightness of his suit, he would look like a college student from an old movie, all dreamy and focused in his own world.

And, apparently, you weren't the only one thinking that.

There were a group of girls outside the cafe, all of them young, maybe even fresh out of high school, staring at Simeon like he was some kind of celebrity. Maybe it was his angelic charisma? Maybe it was just his good looks? Whatever the reason, the girls seemed ready enough to conquer the world and they wanted to start with your boyfriend.

You studied your surroundings, realizing with an uncomfortable weigh in your chest just how busy the place was. There was no way you were getting your order in less than five minutes, even being the first in line, so the only thing you could do was wait and hope the girls wouldn't bother Simeon too much.

They stayed in a closed circle for a few moments until one of them finally dared to go and talk to him. She tried to sit in the second chair, but Simeon stopped her with a quick movement of his hand, probably saying he was saving it for you.

That made you laugh, but you were starting to get second hand embarrassment. You could tell she was trying hard to catch his attention, twirling her hair around her finger and hugging her waist to make her breasts look bigger.

You couldn't see Simeon's face, but, by the way he was scratching the paper, it was obvious he was losing focus on whatever he was previously writing, which would only make him irritated.

Fortunately, and rather rudely, the waitress finally gave you the styrofoam cups and immediately ignored you again, but you couldn't care less. The girl returned to her friends just as you stepped out of the cafe, letting you know part of what happened.

"He said he didn't know what part of him made him look interested in me" she snarled with a hint of hurt in her voice, trying to hide it with offense "That I should find someone that actually finds me entertaining"

Her friends gasped and you had to stop yourself from laughing. He wasn't usually that snappy, but she did interrupt his daydreaming.

"I don't even care what he thinks, he's just some dude! I can catch anyone I want, you know?"

Anyone but him, apparently, but the only thing her friends could do was agree.

Shaking your head and holding one drink in each hand, you stopped the eavesdropping and hurried towards him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek and smiling softly when he raised his hands to stroke your hair. He was warm from the sun, but he still curled close to you even after letting you sit next to him.

The girls audibly gasped at your actions, clearly offended by your presence as if Simeon would change his mind if they waited enough.

You couldn't bring yourself to pay them attention. Not when he was caressing your knuckles with such love in his touch and a feeling so deep in his eyes that it made your heart violently stop.

"So what were you writing?"

He smiled and eagerly showed you the napkin. By the time you turned around, the girls were already gone.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav

Author's note:

Simeon's part sucked the soul out of me (not in the good way), but at least it's well-written. Also, this will be the last part for now: I don't know Mephisto, Raphael or Thirteen enough, so they won't be in any of my posts (for now)

[mochinomnoms]

In regard to interspecies romance

Humans have a fairly easy time pursuing the other species in Twisted Wonderland, though there are exceptions to that rule.

multi (separate) x reader [wc] - 2,252 [note] - one of the first things i ever wrote, though i never posted cause i didnt edit it. thought i would anyways cause its kinda cute. Edited 12/14/23 to add a readmore

Despite their animal like tendencies and courting methods, it's incredibly common to see human-beastmen couples and families. Perhaps it's due to how similar their behaviors are to their animal counterparts, but humans are fond of how beastmen flirt and display affection. Beastmen are offended by the comparison, but it's hard to deny how similar, and cute, they are to the common wolf, hyena, or lion.

Wolf and other canine beastmen enjoy being close to their mates. They like to be physically affectionate, almost playful with their partners. They'll nuzzle into the crook of their neck—no matter how much bigger they are compared to their human—lean against them when they walk, and will happily be by their beloved's sided at all times. Furthermore, they primarily show their effectiveness as partners by being great providers, regardless of gender, and showing off how tight-knit their packs are. After all, family is very important to them, and they'll expect to have one, no matter how big or small, with their partner in the future.

If you catch Ruggie trying to slyly and smoothly place a hand on the small of you back when moving through crowds, no you don't. If a person notices Jack momentarily grabbing (gingerly, mind you) your sides as he slips behind you to reach the potion ingredient on the shelf above you, don't mention how his touch lingers ever so slightly. Maybe take it with a grain of salt when Jack tries to invite you to visit his family over break, as friends, of course. And when Ruggie brags to you about how well he watched over the neighborhood kids growing up, how he'd make for a great family man, it's all hypothetical.

Feline beastmen are more reserved in their affections in public, especially compared to canines, and even more so for lion beastmen. It's more common for them to show affection in more subtle manners, such as buying their partner's food and drinks without being asked, going out of their way to help them when they're struggling at school or work, and are able to spend hours just in their general vicinity. As long as their beloved is around, they're happy. In private, though, expect to have their entire body draped over them, weight and all, shoved into their personal space to the point that it becomes a foreign concept. Leona embodies this to his entire core, too prideful to perform PDA, but just prideful enough that he knows he can take up all your time and space with no consequence. Unless that consequence is your love and affection, which he supposes he could suffer through if you hear him purring, don't point it out.

All lion beastmen hold their pride close to their heart (no matter how much a certain prince would deny it) and their partner is no exception. Their pride is an intrinsically developed social network made of an extended, but closed family network. It requires all new partners to be carefully and slowly introduced to the rest of the pride, more so in Leona's case due to the royal family being traditionally made up of Sunset Savana nobility. You won't be the first non-beastmen, but are the first foreigner in a very long time to be introduced. Don't worry, though, Leona is nothing if not patient, and his family are just happy to know that he's found someone.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, are human-fae relations. Uncommon, though not for a lack of trying on humans' parts, due to most of the fairfolk residing in the isolated Briar Valley. The complicated history between the two species, ancient to humans but still relatively fresh for fae, doesn't help either. There's also the unfortunate consequence of humankind's rather short lifespans compared to the average 1,000-year lifespan of the fae. Unless the fae is in their final hundred or so years, they'll almost always outlive their partner without magical interference.

It's not impossible though, and as younger fairfolk leave the valley to explore the world, more marriages have resulted in half-fae children, both human and beastmen. As partners, fae are devoted to the health and safety of their loved ones. Increasing tenfold into nearly coddling territory with non-fae. Compared to them, their humans and beastmen are awfully fragile and naive, and require their protection. This can cause animosity between them, however, and only fae that are willing to learn and change their old ways result in happy, long-lived marriages.

They're also generally known to have lengthy courting methods: not dating, that implies something casual, no they court. Once they've established interest in you, their end goal is marriage, no ifs, ands, or buts. Fairfolk are generous with gifting during courtship: all gifts are about an equal-exchange and your acceptance of their gifts is a reciprocation of their feelings. At the end of the courtship, you can expect a small feast to be displayed at a ceremony held between their and your family. This is an especially important ceremony when courting humans and beastmen: fairy food can often cause lasting damages to those that consume it without permission. By offering their food to you and your kin, they are welcoming you into their world and telling you that they will never intentionally bestow harm to you or your kin. If you choose to accept the food, then you agree to do the same til the end of your days.

Lilia is a strange case, having already lived a long life and being well traveled, a gleeful participant in the strange customs and traditions of humans and beastmen. He'd much rather participate in other's dating and courtship rituals than his own people's. It's fascinating how fleeting the process can be, yet it can result in everlasting devotion. Don't mistake his flexible nature for disinterest, however. He's still a fae, and if you start finding silly little knickknacks of his on their desk, you can expect to never be rid of him.

The Draconia family-line is steadfast in their traditions, even if Lilia raised the latest prince. So don't expect anything other than the previously explained rituals from Malleus, even if you're not aware of them. Taking gems, jewelry, and clothing made of the finest material you'll ever lay hands from his hoard means little to him if it means you'll accept the gift (and him). Even if you aren't aware of how courtship works, the moment you pick up the black ring with the big oval emerald and Briar Valley crest, you're practically engaged in his eyes.

The courtship is long, even for Malleus who was one step away at every turn to skip over the entire thing in favor of just eloping. All for the person who decided that the great and terrifying Malleus Draconia was actually just a simple Mr. Hornton, a friend, companion who just wanted someone to stay by his side. If it means calling you his spouse, his fellow ruler, and the only love of his life even a moment sooner, then he'd be willing to throw tradition and ritual out of the very tall tower window just to do so.

Many years later, when you reminiscing how the two of you first met, and how long it took you to notice his feelings, you'll offhandedly mention the random gifts you found at your doorstep. How you wish you knew who was leaving those precious stones and golden amulets with no indication on who the admirer was. Upon further questioning, you'll tell him that you didn't even know you were being courted until two months into the ritual. It'll then click in Malleus's mind how utterly lucky he was that the two of you even got together in the first place.

It may be surprising, but human-mer relations have been extraordinarily rare. Only a handful of them have popped up since the times of the Sea Princess, who left her home for a human prince. In fact, you could probably count them on one hand! Perhaps this is due to the difficulties of having a romance between land dwellers and undersea folk; after all, it's much easier for humans, fae, and beastmen to interact when they all live on land. Merfolk can come up to the surface, and have been doing moreso in the last century, but having a relationship with someone who quite literally could not breathe in the same air/water as you is near impossible. At least, not without significant effort on one or the other's part.

Nearly all the human-mer romances that have occurred in history resulted in either one or the other abandoning their home to turn into a human/mer and live the rest of their days with their love in their new world. Certainly a romantic notion to be sure, but it most definitely require their love to be truly eternal. Or else you might run the risk of resentment brewing between the two. With a slowly growing need to easy access transformation potions and spells for business and diplomatic reasons, such romance is not far from reach, at least for those with money to spare. The next issue though would be the significant difference between land dweller and undersea folk's courting methods.

Perhaps it can be contributed to the more...feral nature of merfolk. Most of them still retain more animalistic features and behaviors than the average beastman. The twins are no exception to this. Even if you were to remove their claws, mucus covered skin, and 6-ft tail, you're still left with eyes suited for a deep-sea predator, nose that can smell the tiniest drop of blood in a pool, and rows of razor sharp teeth begging to bite down on your neck. The deep-sea is not only cold, but quite ruthless. So, it'll probably come as no surprise that moray eels will prove themselves as suitable partners by fighting either their competitors or you. If they can prove that they can hold their own, protect you from the horrors of the deep, then they have the right to go for your heart. That's not to say softer sentiments don't exist, and while similar the twins are still two separate people with different tastes. These tastes show during courting, though mers have a more casual date-like ritual.

Like fae, merfolk court via gifts, particularly handmade or ones they found themselves, and Floyd is awfully fond if gifting you the strangest things. A tooth that was knocked out from the student who shoved you a little too hard, a rock you tripped over in P.E., or a sand dollar he found on a trip to the beach were a few of the many items he gave you. Jade is similar, though he's more fond of making his own gifts. A necklace made of seashells found at the beach you had your first date in, a terrarium he made from plants that remind him of you, but your favorite was the small garden he started tending to on your kitchen windowsill. Breakfast was particularly delicious when made with his fresh mushrooms. Expect soon after the gifts lots of physical affection, public and private.

Don't be mistaken, they'll still bully you. But each of Floyd's bone-crushing hugs will be accompanied by a soft headbump from his forehead to yours. Jade's teasing, mean remarks will follow with a swift, sweet peck to your knuckles. They'll grab your notebook and hold it above their head until you agree to give them a kiss or punch them in the stomach, both are acceptable responses. Be a little mean back, they like the idea of a sweet and cute little human that can throw a punch. Your their sweet little human, and you make life in the deep exciting. Just don't ask about their flushed face every time they see you yawn, they aren't quite ready to explain that one yet.

Azul intensely studied a variety of topics before coming to land, even briefly glossing over dating, romance, and marriage before deciding he wouldn't need it anytime soon. He regretted that soon after meeting you, though he made do with what he knew. And what he knew as food. A combination of octo-mer courtship and being the son of a cook, Azul will discreetly court you by personally cooking and feeding you your favorite meals. It's the result of the dangers of ancient octo-mers eating their spouses after mating. Afterall you can't eat more if your already full. While not something they have to worry about now, it's an old ritual still used today, Azul has hear the way to a person's heart is their stomach and can wholeheartedly agree.

What's surprised you the most was what followed after, especially for someone as physically reserved as Azul: octo-mers are extremely clingy and affectionate. He doesn't have the heart to do anything more than handholding and chaste kisses to your cheeks in public, but he yearns to wrap all 8 tentacles and two arms around you so tightly that your gasping for a breath that he steals with his lips. He won't mention it, but he can taste the salt from your skin and the pulse from your wrists with his suckers. Take it from someone who grew up with a refined palate, he thinks your taste is equivalent to ambrosia from the gods, though that might be the lovesickness speaking.

i have a hard time writing savanaclaw for some reason, but imma working on it now! also tagging for all the guys is stressful idk what i should enter, like fullname or just first name idk man!! pls reblog and comment! lmk what you time, xoxo

[benjinotes]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

request: hi, can you do one shot of jealous, Benji? One of the Black's allies tries to flirt with her, maybe

pairings: benjicot blackwood x fem (bracken) reader

warnings: jealousy, little spicy, a little angst w//happy ending, mentions of violence and blood.

ask me for permission before translating

Benjicot Blackwood should hate you, despise you even.

Your homes fueled an animosity that went back generations, rooted in ancient disputes and rivalries, and the hatred he harbored for you was so intense and overwhelming that it infiltrated every thought, every action, and every cell in his body.

That burning resentment consumed his soul in such a way that he almost couldn't remember anything else when he was with you, as if his very existence had been eclipsed by your presence.

But despite this deep hatred, there was something inexplicable and profound that pulled him towards you-an irresistible force that he could not understand.

Each small encounter, no matter how full of hostility and provocation, revealed a complexity of emotions that went beyond the pure aversion felt by any of your ancestors toward each other.

And the fine line between love and hate began to blur; Benjicot found himself increasingly lost in this tangle of conflicting and bewildering feelings, now completely unable to ignore the disturbing fascination that you held over him.

Watching from afar as you spoke to Cregan Stark, he fixed his burning gaze in your direction. The expression on his face was a mixture of anger and a little sadness, which only increased as you approached Cregan or smiled in his direction. He was hating it; he wanted so badly to stop that interaction, and his veins burned for him to do so.

However, Benjicot was aware that he could not act hastily, especially in the presence of practically the entire court and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen's loyal allies who occupied that room. Furthermore, the presence of your brother, positioned behind you, did not help at all; he watched him with an arched eyebrow and a wry smile, an expression that Benji felt an almost irresistible impulse to confront with a punch.

Yet, he contained himself, being aware of the consequences that his actions could have in that place, and turned his angry gaze from your direction to one of the nobles who were next to him while trying to hide the wave of jealousy that was boiling inside him. The feeling of you being so close to another man who wasn't his made him nervous and uncomfortable, and he could already start to feel the collar of your tunic tightening his neck.

But he wanted to beat Cregan Stark; damn it, he wanted to rub Lord Stark's face in the ground just for the simple fact that the man thought he was worthy enough to even talk to you.

No one was worthy enough of you, not even himself.

"Are you alright?" Benji heard his aunt's voice filled with concern, but he just nodded, ignoring the shards of glass embedded in his hands from his tight grip on the wine glass.

She simply nodded, he could notice her eyes showing distrust, as she turned her attention to the lords of House Royce in a conversation that Benji honestly made no attempt to hear.

He returned to observing you with a forced seriousness, trying to ignore the pain from the cuts on his hands caused by the broken glass.

However, the pain he felt physically was quickly replaced by another overwhelming feeling of jealousy and sadness as he realized that now you were not only talking like before with Lord Stark but also smiling in the other man's direction, with such a soft and gentle smile, and that made his heart stop for a moment.

That wasn't fair. You had ignored him for days and now here you were smiling at another man in a way you had never smiled at him, and in such a genuine and sweet way that he didn't know whether to knock Lord Stark for being the person you were heading, or thanked him for giving him the chance to see you smile like that.

But one thing was certain: Benji couldn't bear this any longer, and when he saw you get up from the table and walk through the wooden door, he stood up from the table abruptly and followed you without hesitation, ignoring the questioning look from his aunt and the curious looks of the other lords at the table. His heart pounded with every step closer to you.

He knew it was a rash attitude, but he couldn't control it, not when he was in battles or when it came to you.

Benjicot's footsteps echoed audibly as he approached you, and with that, you turned back, surprised to find Benji's brown eyes looking at you with something so different from the other times.

His eyes, unlike other times, seemed to carry a mixture of hurt and confusion as they looked towards yours, which showed a hint of regret.

However, you just straightened your back, ignoring the feeling that was now running through your veins, and looked at him with superiority—a superiority that would have made him laugh if it weren't for these circumstances. "What do you want, Blackwood?" You asked sourly, but despite that, he seemed to lean towards the sound of the voice he hadn't heard lately.

You were expecting a teasing response the moment Benji seemed to stretch your back; however, nothing prepared you for what he was about to say. "Why are you ignoring me?" He asked softly, but you could hear a sour tone in the middle of it. After all, Benjicot never managed to be sweet without a little bitterness.

"What?"

He moved closer to you, and every step Benjicot took towards you was another step you took back, but he didn't stop; he didn't stop until you were cradled between his arms and the cold marble of the halls of that palace.

"I asked." He began, his voice soft and rough at the same time as he tilted his face closer to yours. "Why are you ignoring me?" He repeated it again, and this time he seemed a little angry as he looked at you, who remained silent as you looked into his eyes.

‘Why are you ignoring me?’

You didn't know; maybe it was because you were fed up with his lame jokes; maybe it was because of how rich your houses were; or maybe it was the simple fact that you hated him so much that you could barely breathe properly when you looked at his direction. In either way, you didn't know.

"Hmm?" He asked in a low voice, tilting his head even more in your direction and making your breaths mix in the short space that separated you. He was close—too close.

And you wanted him, even more closer.

"You're not going to ans — ?" Benjicot started, but before he could finish the sentence, you smashed his lips, covering them with your own, and making him gasp in surprise but quickly returning the kiss with the same intensity and strength.

When you pulled him firmly by the neck, bringing him closer, you felt his smile against your mouth, accompanied by a squeeze on your waist that made you gasp in surprise, and Benji, taking advantage of your reaction, inserted his tongue into your mouth, intensifying the kiss even more. 

You knew you shouldn't be doing this; it was wrong; it was completely wrong; your homes were enemies and your families hated each other, but the kisses that Benji now left on your neck made you forget about that and focus on the good part of the hate, in the intense and pleasurable part of the hate you both had for each other.

"I don't want you to go near Lord Stark again, ok?" He murmured while placing small kisses on the part of your bust that was exposed; the blood he had on his hands now marked your clothed waist, and you breathed dizzily, too disconcerted to be able to form a concrete word.

That was good, so good.

"Excellent." Benji murmured, lifting his head again, giving a smile when he noticed your red cheeks and swollen lips, and leaving one last kiss on your lips.

He might not make you smile like that, but this sure felt a lot better.

— my first one-shot, honestly i still don’t know how to feel about this, but i hope you enjoy!!

— english is not my first language, so please be respectful.

— benjicot blackwood fic.

tag: @h-0-error

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.

Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.

“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.

All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.

A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"

Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.

Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”

His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.

Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.

Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.

His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.

In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.

His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.

“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.

"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.

Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.

"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."

As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.

You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.

Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.

"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."

"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.

"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching. 

"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."

The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."

Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.

“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."

His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.

“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.

"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.

“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.

“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”

His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”

You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.

The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.

The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.

Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.

The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.

Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.

“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.

His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.

Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.

Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”

“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”

“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.

Tags in comments! 🤗

[bueckets]

Going UP?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn't get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student's desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball's golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you're trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it's worth taking the shot. Sometimes cupid doesn't use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Featuring: One (1) very broken elevator Several questionably colored cocktails A security guard who's seen it all Basketball plays drawn in spilled Shirley Temples Analytics-based flirting And a whipped cream fight that definitely isn't regulation play

Coming soon to wherever meet-cutes happen in college sports. (Rated R for excessive basketball puns and gay panic)

WC: 8.1k (roughly)

Genre/Notes: uh, i tried to be funny, floofy, rom-com-ish? (i tried), smut at the end, someone gets their kitty ATE, proof read like 50%

Your sneakers pound against the cracked, patchy sidewalk of North Campus, dodging the construction zone that's been "two weeks from completion" since freshman year. The November air bites at your cheeks, sharp as broken glass, and your laptop bag repeatedly slams into your hip with each stride, probably turning your thesis notes into digital confetti. A gust of wind lashes at you, tugging at your jacket, your hair, your sanity, and sending a rogue candy wrapper tumbling like a lonely tumbleweed across the quad like some 50’s Old West showdown. 

You'd woken up to three missed calls from your advisor and an email that made your soul leave your body.

Meeting moved to 9:15 AM. Please bring updated analytics models.

It's 9:12.

The universe is really testing you today. First, your roommate's cat knocked your phone off the nightstand, somehow managing to turn off all five of your alarms. Then, the dining hall’s card reader had the audacity to look at your student ID like it was written in crayon, leaving you to scavenge through your bag for exact change like a Victorian orphan. And now this.

You weave through the crowd of freshmen congregating outside the Student Union like they've never seen stairs before, your thermos of room-temperature coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid. The wind whips a forgotten syllabus past your feet as you cut across the grass (sorry, campus maintenance), taking the "shortcut" that everyone pretends they don't use. You can practically hear the landscaping team groaning somewhere, shaking their heads at the worn-down dirt trail you and a thousand other students have carved into their perfect lawn.

Gampel Pavilion looms ahead, all glass and steel and architectural hubris. The morning sun hits it at an angle that makes it look like it's on fire, which feels appropriate given your current state of mild panic. You've spent so many hours in this building that the security guard, Mike, doesn't even look up from his crossword puzzle anymore when you scan your ID.

"Running late?" he calls out as you blast past his desk.

"What gave it away?" you shout back, already halfway to the elevators. Your sneakers squeak against the polished floors, leaving behind a faint trail of panic and shame— but most importantly, dirt. 

The ancient LED display above the elevator shows it's on the third floor. You slam the up button approximately forty-seven times, as if that's ever made an elevator move faster in the history of vertical transportation.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, shifting your weight between feet like you're doing some demented speed-skating warm-up. Your laptop bag keeps sliding off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure your hair looks like you styled it in a wind tunnel.  A strand falls into your eyes, and you blow it away with a frustrated huff. Everything about you screams disaster, and yet the elevator couldn’t care less.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with all the urgency of a DMV employee on a Friday afternoon.

And there she is.

Paige Bueckers is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, one foot propped up behind her, looking like she just stepped out of a Nike ad. Her practice uniform is pristine, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail that somehow hasn't gotten the memo about today's wind situation. She's got AirPods in, absently spinning a basketball between her hands like it's an extension of her body.

Your brain short-circuits. 

Time seems to slow down as you stand there, probably looking like a deer caught in very attractive headlights. The elevator dings again, threatening to close its doors on your moment of crisis.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward just as the doors start to close, practically diving into the elevator like you're trying to save a ball going out of bounds. Your coffee sloshes, your bag swings, and you nearly face-plant into the corner.

Paige pulls out one AirPod, her eyebrows raised so high they might achieve orbit. "Nice entrance."

You straighten up, trying to salvage whatever dignity might be hiding in the corners of this elevator. "Thanks, I've been practicing."

The elevator starts its ascent with a concerning rattle that definitely wasn't part of the original design. You adjust your bag for the hundredth time, very aware that you probably look like you just lost a fight with a leaf blower. Meanwhile, Paige keeps spinning that damn basketball, the soft thump-thump of it between her hands matching rhythm with your still-racing heart.

Nine floors to go. Eight if your advisor hasn't moved offices again after the Great Coffee Incident of last semester.

You can handle this. You're an adult. A slightly disheveled, possibly caffeine-deprived adult, but still. Just because you're sharing an elevator with the university's basketball goddess doesn't mean you need to—

The lights flicker once. Twice.

The elevator shudders like it's having an existential crisis.

Then everything stops.

The emergency lights kick in, bathing everything in a red glow that makes Paige look like she's starring in a very stylish apocalypse movie. The basketball stops spinning.

"Well," she says, tucking the ball under her arm and giving you a smile that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip. "Looks like the universe has other plans for us this morning."

You look at your phone: 9:14 AM.

Your advisor is going to kill you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, jabbing at the emergency call button like it personally offended you. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

The little red light blinks back at you, mocking your entire existence, as if to say, yeah, good luck with that, idiot. You hit the button again, harder this time, because maybe the elevator just needs some aggressive encouragement.

"I don't think that's helping," Paige says, watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. She's still spinning that goddamn basketball, the rhythmic thump-thump now feeling less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown to your academic doom.

"Yeah? Well, neither are you," you snap, immediately regretting it. Great. Now you're trapped in an elevator AND you've just been rude to Paige fucking Bueckers. "Shit, sorry, I just—" You run both hands through your already catastrophic hair. "My advisor is going to crucify me. Like, actually crucify me. She's probably got a cross picked out and everything."

Paige catches the ball mid-spin. "Dr. Martinez?"

"How did you—"

"The only professor I know who actually might own a cross for student crucifixions." She tucks the ball under her arm. "She made one of our freshmen cry last week just by looking at her."

"That tracks." You slide down the wall opposite her, your legs finally giving up on the whole standing thing. "God, I can't believe this. I've got my entire thesis presentation on this laptop, three months of analytics data that I haven't backed up because I'm an idiot, and now I'm going to die in an elevator with—" You wave vaguely in her direction.

"With?" She raises an eyebrow, and you swear there's a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"With UConn's basketball savior who's probably missing practice right now because the universe decided today was a great day for some cosmic practical joke." You let your head thunk back against the wall. "Coach Auriemma's probably already got a hit out on me."

Paige laughs, and the sound does something weird to your chest. "Nah, Coach is more of a 'make you run suicides until you puke' kind of guy. Much less paperwork than murder."

"Fantastic. So I'll die from academic execution AND athletic retribution. Perfect way to start a Tuesday."

"You always this dramatic before 9:30?" She's definitely smirking now.

"Only when I'm trapped in elevators with pretty girls who should be at practice."

The words are out before your brain can catch up with your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you seriously consider trying to pry open the doors and jump down the shaft.

But Paige just grins, wide and dangerous. "Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're deflecting from the fact that we're stuck in a metal box that's older than both of us combined," you say, proud of how steady your voice comes out despite the internal screaming.

"And I think you're deflecting from the fact that you just called me pretty."

You pull out your phone again, desperate for a distraction. "No signal. Perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Could be worse," Paige says, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her feet almost reach where you're sitting, and you absolutely do not notice how long her legs are. "Could be stuck in here with Dr. Martinez."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Jesus, don't even joke about that. She'd probably make me defend my thesis right here."

"Yeah? What's it about?"

You look up from your phone to find her watching you with what appears to be genuine interest. "You really want to know?"

"Well," she gestures around the elevator, "it's not like I've got anywhere else to be."

You narrow your eyes. "If this is some kind of pity conversation—"

"It's not." She cuts you off, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm actually curious. Plus, you look like you might spontaneously combust if you don't talk about something other than being stuck in here."

She's not wrong. Your leg has been bouncing non-stop since you sat down, and you're pretty sure you're about to wear a hole in your bottom lip from biting it.

"Fine," you say, setting your phone aside. "But remember, you asked for this. And if you fall asleep, I'm using that basketball as a pillow."

Paige's eyes light up with something that makes your stomach flip. "Deal."

"Okay, so you know how current basketball analytics are basically just glorified box scores?" You shift to face her properly, your earlier panic morphing into the kind of enthusiasm that usually makes people's eyes glaze over. "Like, sure, we can track points and assists and whatever, but that's just the obvious stuff."

"And there's more than the obvious stuff?" Paige asks, settling in like she's actually planning to follow your inevitably chaotic explanation.

"So much more." You pull your laptop out, balancing it on your crossed legs. "Like, imagine being able to track not just who made the shot, but all the little things that made that shot possible. The way players move without the ball, how defensive shifts create spaces that don't show up in any stat sheet.”

Your hands start moving as you talk, painting invisible patterns in the air. Paige has stopped spinning her basketball, her eyes following your gestures with an intensity that makes you warm all over.

"It's like..." You pause, trying to find the right words. "You know how in chess, sometimes the most important move isn't the one that takes the piece, but the three moves before that made it possible?"

She nods, leaning forward slightly. "Like a setup play."

"Exactly!" You're fully animated now, previous elevator crisis temporarily forgotten. "But current systems don't track that. They don't see how Player A moving left makes Player B's defender shift just enough that Player C can—"

The emergency speaker crackles to life, making you both jump.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" The voice sounds bored, like stuck elevators are just another Tuesday morning inconvenience.

Paige reaches over and hits the call button. "Yeah, we're here. Two people."

"Alright, we've got maintenance heading up. Should have you out in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight."

The speaker clicks off, leaving you both in that red-tinted silence again.

"Fifteen minutes," you groan, letting your head fall back against the wall. "Dr. Martinez is definitely going to have that cross ready."

"Hey," Paige says, and something in her voice makes you look at her. "Tell me more about your system. How do you track all those micro-movements?"

You blink at her. "You actually want to hear more?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?" She's got this soft half-smile that does dangerous things to your ability to think straight. "Plus, you get all..." she waves her hand vaguely, "sparkly when you talk about it."

"Sparkly?"

"Yeah, like you're lit up from the inside." She says it so casually, like she hasn't just made your heart do a full court press against your ribs.

You clear your throat, trying to remember how words work. "Right. Well, um, I've been working with the computer vision lab to develop these tracking algorithms..."

The next fifteen minutes dissolve into a blur of technical explanations and basketball theory. Paige asks surprisingly specific questions, and you try not to look too pleased every time she leans in closer to see something on your laptop screen.

When maintenance finally gets the elevator moving again, it feels too soon.

The doors open on the fourth floor – your floor – and you scramble to pack up your laptop, suddenly aware that you've spent the last twenty minutes word-vomiting about analytics to one of the best basketball players in the country.

"Thanks for, uh, keeping me from completely losing it," you say, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And sorry about the whole..." you gesture vaguely at yourself, "chaos."

Paige stands too, and even in the normal lighting, she's unfairly pretty. "Chaos looks good on you."

Your brain short-circuits. "Can I get your number?"

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into the nearest trash can. But Paige just grins, that dangerous one that makes her look like she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Tell you what," she says, spinning the basketball on one finger because apparently she's physically incapable of not showing off. "Come to Friday's game. If you can spot one of those micro-interactions you were talking about..." She lets the ball roll down her arm and catches it smoothly. "Maybe you'll find out if I give my number to random girls I meet in elevators."

She backs into the elevator, maintaining eye contact until the doors close between you.

You stand there for a solid thirty seconds, staring at the brushed metal doors like they might reveal the secrets of the universe. Or at least explain how you went from having a mental breakdown about your advisor to what definitely felt like flirting with Paige Bueckers.

Your phone buzzes: another email from Dr. Martinez.

Meeting rescheduled to 2PM. Bring coffee. The good kind.

You look back at the elevator doors, then at your phone, then at the ceiling.

Looks like you're going to a basketball game on Friday.

The security guard at Gampel's student entrance looks at your ticket, then at you, then back at the ticket with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people trying to use expired coupons at Target.

"This is— courtside," he says slowly, like maybe you don't understand what those words mean.

"Yeah, I, uh,” You shift your weight between feet, very aware of the growing line behind you. "I got it in an email?"

It comes out like a question because honestly, you're still not entirely sure this isn't some elaborate fever dream. The past three days have felt surreal, starting with Dr. Martinez actually smiling during your rescheduled meeting (turns out that fancy coffee shop downtown does make a difference) and ending with an email from pbueckers@uconn.edu that made you choke on your morning cereal.

The security guard squints at his scanner like it's personally offending him. "These are usually reserved for—"

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice cuts through the growing awkwardness, and you turn to find Mike, your elevator-lobby guardian angel, approaching with his signature "I've seen too much student nonsense" expression.

"Got a courtside ticket here, but—"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, shooting you a look that's somewhere between amused and knowing. "This one's good. Let 'em through."

You mouth a 'thank you' as you pass, and he just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "kids these days" under his breath.

The student section is already packed, a sea of navy and white that ripples with pre-game energy. But your ticket directs you past all that, down, down, down the steps until you're so close to the court you can smell the fresh polish on the hardwood.

"This isn't happening," you mutter to yourself, dropping into your assigned seat—which is literally close enough to high-five players coming off the court. "This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just casually sitting courtside at a sold-out game because you got trapped in an elevator and word-vomited about basketball analytics for twenty minutes. Totally normal Friday night."

The woman next to you, wearing what looks like several hundred dollars worth of UConn gear, gives you a concerned side-eye.

"Sorry," you say, slinking lower in your seat. "I talk to myself when I'm having an existential crisis."

She just nods and shifts slightly away, which, fair.

The arena fills up quickly, the ambient noise growing from a buzz to a roar. You try to look casual, like you totally belong here and didn't spend forty-five minutes earlier having a breakdown about what to wear to a basketball game when you're sitting close enough to be on TV. (You'd finally settled on jeans and a UConn hoodie, figuring if you're going to have a gay panic on national television, you might as well be comfortable.)

The teams come out for warm-ups, and your heart definitely doesn't skip when you spot number 5 leading the layup line. Paige moves like she's got some sort of cheat code for gravity, each motion fluid and precise. She's got her game face on, all focused intensity and practiced routine, but then—

She catches your eye as she circles back to the line, and her serious expression cracks just enough to let through a hint of that dangerous grin from the elevator.

"Oh, I am so screwed," you breathe, and the woman next to you shifts another inch away.

The game itself is a blur of motion and noise. You try to focus on analyzing plays like you promised, looking for those micro-interactions you'd rambled about, but it's hard to think strategically when Paige keeps making passes that shouldn't be physically possible. Your laptop's probably having a stroke trying to track all these movements.

By halftime, UConn's up by twelve, and you've filled three pages of your Notes app with what started as technical observations but has devolved into increasingly incoherent capslock about various impressive plays. The latest note just says "HOW DID SHE EVEN SEE THAT CUTTING GUARD??? PHYSICS???? HELP????"

"Nice analysis."

You nearly drop your phone. Paige is right there, pretending to adjust her shoes by the bench but clearly smirking in your direction.

"I'm being professionally thorough," you whisper-hiss back, trying to ignore how your pulse is doing full-court sprints.

"Uh huh." She stands up, heading back to the huddle, but not before adding, "You look good in UConn blue, by the way."

You spend the entire third quarter trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The fourth quarter is when you see it—one of those perfect setup plays you'd theorized about. Paige moves left, drawing her defender, while simultaneously nodding almost imperceptibly to her teammate. The slight movement causes a chain reaction: the defense shifts, creating a gap that shouldn't exist, and suddenly there's a perfect passing lane that materializes out of seemingly nowhere. The ball flows through it like water finding the path of least resistance, resulting in an easy layup that looks simple but was actually three moves in the making.

You're on your feet before you realize it, pointing and probably looking deranged. "That! That's exactly what I was talking about! The head fake was the trigger but it wasn't even about the—" You cut yourself off, becoming aware that several people are staring at you, including the woman next to you who's now practically in the next seat over.

As the final buzzer sounds (UConn by 18), your phone buzzes with a new email.

From: pbueckers@uconn.edu

Subject: Nice catch

Body: 617-555-0147

PS - Your "professional analysis" face is reaaaaallly cute. Even from ten feet away.

You stare at your phone long enough that the arena starts to empty around you, afraid that if you look away the numbers might disappear like some basketball Cinderella story. The woman next to you finally gets up, edging past with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals.

"Sorry about all the,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

She just pats your shoulder with grandmotherly sympathy. "Honey, I've been watching basketball for forty years, and I've never seen someone have a gay awakening quite that enthusiastically. Good luck with number five."

You're still sputtering when she disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with a phone number and the distinct feeling that the universe is either laughing at you or playing matchmaker.

Possibly both.

Nah— Definitely both.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, your bladder kindly reminds you that you stress-drank an entire large iced coffee before the game. Fucking wonderful. You glance at the concourse—and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.

The bathroom line snakes around the corner like some kind of hydra-headed monster, full of people who clearly had the same brilliant beverage ideas you did. You briefly consider just holding it and dealing with the consequences later, but your body has other plans.

"This is karma," you mutter, taking your place at the end of the line. "This is definitely karma for all those times I made fun of people waiting in long bathroom lines."

The girl in front of you snorts. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from the same coffee-based poor judgment."

Twenty minutes. Twenty. Entire. Minutes.

You've gone through every social media app twice, responded to three emails you've been avoiding, and played enough Candy Crush to rot your remaining brain cells by the time you finally emerge from the bathroom. The arena is practically empty now, just cleaning crew and a few lingering fans.

Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, that number burning a hole in your mind. You pull it out, staring at the digits like they might rearrange themselves into instructions on how to text your elevator-meet-cute crush without sounding like a complete disaster.

To: 617-555-0147

Hey, this is your favorite elevator analytics nerd. Great game tonight. That fourth-quarter setup play was chef's kiss

You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every word choice. Chef's kiss? Really? Maybe if you run fast enough, you can catch up to your dignity before it leaves the building entirely.

Your phone buzzes before you can fully commit to your shame spiral.

From: Paige 🏀

some of us are heading to murphy's for dirty shirleys if you want to continue your "professional analysis" in person? promise there won't be any elevators involved

You nearly trip over your own feet.

Will there be a formal presentation required? Should I prepare slides?

just your sparkling personality and maybe an explanation of how you knew that play was coming before I did 😉

Bold of you to assume I wasn't just gesturing wildly at a mosquito 

we both know you're too much of a basketball nerd for that. meet you there in 20?

You pause at the arena exit, looking down at your very casual, very not-prepared-to-go-out outfit. But then again, when has anything about this situation been normal? 

Your eyes shoot back to your phone and your frantic typing begins once again.

Only if you promise to explain how that behind-the-back pass in the third quarter didn't break several laws of physics

deal. and hey?

Yeah?

the hoodie really does look good on you

Your stomach shoots to your ass and you stand there grinning at your phone like an idiot until Mike, doing his final security rounds, walks by and shakes his head.

"Don't stay out too late, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "These love stories always get complicated when they start in elevators."

"That was literally ONE MOVIE," you shout after him, but he just waves without turning around.

You look down at your phone one more time, then up at the now-empty arena, and can't help but laugh. Somehow, a broken elevator, an understanding security guard, and a basketball player with a dangerous grin have turned your disaster of a week into whatever this is.

Time to find out if Dirty Shirleys taste better when you're sharing them with a girl who can bend physics on a basketball court.

Murphy's is exactly what would happen if a sports bar had a baby with a college town dive and raised it on a strict diet of neon signs and questionable decor choices. The walls are plastered with enough UConn memorabilia to fill a museum, if museums were into collecting signed napkins and mysteriously stained jerseys.

Your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics as you push open the door, immediately hit by the smell of mozzarella sticks and what you really hope is just decades of spilled beer. The place is packed with post-game energy, and you're pretty sure your heart stops completely when you spot Paige at a corner booth, still in her game-day warmups because apparently she just casually walks around looking like a Nike ad.

"Analytics nerd!" she calls out, waving you over with that stupid grin that makes your brain cells commit mass suicide. "We saved you a seat!"

The 'we' turns out to be a collection of players who could probably stack on top of each other and touch the moon. You slide into the only open spot—right next to Paige, because the universe is clearly not done testing your ability to form coherent sentences today.

"Everyone, this is the elevator girl who knows more about our plays than we do," Paige announces, and your face goes hot enough to fry an egg. "Elevator girl, this is everyone."

"I have a name, you know," you manage, trying to ignore how her shoulder is pressed against yours in the crowded booth.

"Yeah, but 'elevator girl' has a better ring to it," she says, sliding a violently pink drink your way. "Plus, it's technically accurate."

"So is 'basketball menace' but you don't see me—" Your mouth snaps shut as her teammates start cackling.

"Oh, I like this one," says a girl you recognize as KK Arnold, grinning like she just got early Christmas. "She's got bite."

"She's got analytics," Paige corrects, but she's looking at you with something that makes your stomach relocate to somewhere in the general vicinity of Jupiter. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you caught that play coming."

You take a long sip of your Dirty Shirley to buy time, immediately regretting it when the sugar content threatens to give you instant cavities. "Holy shit, what's in this? Pure pixie stick powder?"

"Don't deflect," Paige says, poking your side. "We've got a whole team of analysts and none of them caught it. So spill."

"Fine, but only because you bought me diabetes in a glass." You shift to face her, accidentally-on-purpose letting your knee rest against hers under the table. "It was your head."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "My head?"

"You've got this tell," you say, getting into it now because apparently basketball analysis is your ideal flirting language. "This tiny little head tilt you do when you're setting up something sneaky. Like a cat about to knock something off a table, but make it basketball."

The entire table goes quiet, then erupts in laughter.

"She's got you there, P," Ice wheezes. "You do look like a menacing cat sometimes!"

Paige is staring at you with a mix of indignation and something else that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. "I do not have a cat tell."

"You absolutely do," you say, emboldened by sugar and the way her eyes keep dropping to your lips. "It's actually kind of cu—"

"SHOTS!" someone yells, and suddenly there's a tray of something alarmingly blue being passed around.

"Oh god," you mutter, watching the liquid slosh ominously. "Is this what happens when a Smurf dies?"

Paige nearly chokes on her drink. "That's terrible!"

"Just like these shots are about to be?"

She leans in close—too close, definitely too close for your remaining brain cells to function—and whispers, "Good thing I like terrible jokes."

Your stomach shoots to your ass (and possibly into another dimension) as she pulls back with a wink that should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.

"I hate you," you inform her, grabbing one of the Smurf funeral shots because if you're going to have a gay crisis in a college bar, you might as well commit fully.

"No you don't," she says with absolute certainty, and the worst part is she's right.

You really, really don't.

The night dissolves into a blur of increasingly ridiculous drinks (who knew they made something called a "Husky Howl"?), basketball stories that get more elaborate with each round, and Paige's thigh pressed warm against yours under the table. You learn that she stress-bakes before big games, that she once tried to teach her dog to play basketball, and that when she really laughs—like, really laughs—she snorts a little and it's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At some point, Azzi starts drawing up plays on napkins with increasingly chaotic drink-fueled creativity. Aaliyah Edwards keeps stealing her pen to "fix" the defensive rotations, while Nika Mühl throws wadded-up straw wrappers at both of them, critiquing their "absolutely trash spacing."

"No, no, look," KK follows imaginary lines with her finger across the napkin, accidentally dragging it through a puddle of spilled Shirley Temple. "If we run this here, and then—" she grabs your arm— "you're the defense, okay? Stand up."

"I absolutely am not," you protest, but Paige is already pulling you up with that stupid grin that makes your knees forget how joints work.

"Come on, elevator girl," she teases, positioning you near the booth. "Show us those analytics skills in action."

"I hate all of you," you mutter, but you're laughing as KK tries to demonstrate some elaborate defensive scheme that mostly involves her spinning in circles while Aaliyah provides unhelpful commentary.

"Your footwork is trash, bestie," Aaliyah calls out, now using maraschino cherries to build what appears to be a scale model of the paint.

"YOUR footwork is trash," KK shoots back, then promptly trips over nothing.

"Ladies, ladies," Paige steps in, all faux seriousness undermined by the way she can't stop grinning. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

She moves behind you, hands settling lightly on your hips, and your brain immediately flatlines. "See, proper defensive stance is all about—"

"Get a fuckin' room!" Nika yells, launching another straw wrapper that hits Paige square in the forehead.

"Actually," Paige says close to your ear, and your stomach does approximately seventeen backflips, "I've got that new analytics setup at my apartment if you want to see it. You know, for research purposes."

You turn to face her, very aware that her hands haven't moved from your hips. "Research purposes?"

"Mhmm." That dangerous grin is back. "Purely academic, of course."

"Of course," you manage, trying to ignore the way your pulse is doing a full drumline routine.

"Oh my god," KK groans from the booth. "This is worse than when Aaliyah tried to flirt with that barista using coffee puns."

"Hey!" Aaliyah protests. "That was smooth!"

"You asked if she wanted to 'espresso' her feelings!"

"And now we're dating, so who's the real winner here?"

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics, but her thumbs are drawing small circles on your hips that are making it very hard to focus on anything else. "So? Want to help me with some late-night analysis?"

Your stomach shoots to your ass as you meet her eyes, finding them sparkling with something that definitely isn't just about basketball statistics. "I mean, it would be unprofessional to turn down a research opportunity..."

"GET OUT OF HERE," Azzi throws a cherry that sails completely wide of both of you. "Your gay panic is ruining my plays."

"Your plays were already ruined," Nika points out, helpfully redrawing the vodka-smudged X's and O's with what appears to be lip gloss.

Paige grabs her jacket with one hand and your hand with the other, tugging you toward the door. "Don't wait up, nerds!"

"USE PROTECTION!" Aubrey shouts after you, causing several nearby tables to choke on their drinks.

"I mean, analytics can be very dangerous," you say with mock seriousness as you step into the cool night air, very aware that Paige hasn't let go of your hand. "All those numbers flying around."

"Absolutely hazardous," she agrees, pulling you closer as you walk. "Better stick together. For safety."

"For safety," you repeat, hoping she can't feel your pulse racing where your fingers are intertwined. "And research."

"And research," she echoes, giving you that sidelong grin that makes your heart forget how to beat properly. "Though I should warn you..."

"Yeah?"

She stops under a streetlight, turning to face you with eyes that sparkle with mischief. "My elevator works perfectly fine."

Your laugh echoes off the empty street. "Damn. There goes my backup plan."

"I'm sure we can find other ways to get stuck together," she says, and your stomach relocates somewhere in the general vicinity of Mars.

As you follow her down the quiet streets of Storrs, your joined hands swinging between you, you make a mental note to buy Mike the biggest coffee gift card you can afford.

Broken elevators might just be your new favorite thing.

Paige's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who's somehow both a basketball prodigy and a complete dork—there's a literal trophy shelf right next to a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops, and her UConn jersey hangs framed above what appears to be a very elaborate gaming setup.

"Nice lightsaber," you say, nodding to the collector's edition propped in the corner.

"Nice deflection from how your hands are shaking," she shoots back, shrugging off her jacket.

"It's cold outside!"

"Uh huh." She disappears into the kitchen, and you hear cabinets opening. "Want some hot chocolate? I promise it's better than those nuclear waste shots Aubrey kept ordering."

Your stomach does a weird flip at how domestic this feels. "Only if you have—"

"Mini marshmallows and whipped cream? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

You follow her voice to find her already pulling out mugs, one of which has "Ball is Life" written in what appears to be glitter pen. "The kind that owns a bedazzled basketball mug?"

"First of all, Nika made this for my birthday and it's a masterpiece," she says, grabbing milk from the fridge. "Second of all, you're just jealous of my sophisticated taste."

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing says sophistication like..." you pick up a container from the counter, "unicorn hot chocolate mix?"

She snatches it back, fighting a grin. "It's limited edition!"

"Of course, my mistake. Clearly I'm in the presence of a fine dining connoisseur."

The kitchen fills with the smell of chocolate as she heats the milk, and you try not to stare at how she's rolled up her sleeves, forearms on full display as she stirs. You fail miserably.

"See something you like?" she asks without turning around, because apparently she has eyes in the back of her head.

"Just admiring your hot chocolate technique."

"My technique is excellent, thank you very much." She turns, holding up a can of whipped cream with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Want to see?"

Your throat goes dry. "I feel like this is a trap."

"Maybe." She takes a step closer, and your back hits the counter. "But you've been analyzing my moves all night. Shouldn't I get a turn?"

You're about to say something witty—really, you are—but then she's shaking the whipped cream can and all your brain cells collectively abandon ship.

"Don't you dare—" 

The words are barely out before she's spraying whipped cream directly at your face. You squeal (not your proudest moment) and grab for the can, resulting in a brief wrestling match that ends with cream basically everywhere except in the actual mugs.

"You're such a menace!" you gasp, trying to wipe cream off your nose while she cackles.

"Says the girl who called me out on my head tilt in front of my whole team!"

"That's different! That was professional analysis!"

"Oh yeah?" She steps closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. "Analyze this."

Your heart stops as she reaches up, thumb gently wiping whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Time seems to freeze, your entire world narrowing to that point of contact and the way her eyes drop to your lips.

"Your technique could use some work," you manage to whisper, and she laughs—that real laugh, with the little snort that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

"Maybe you should show me how it's done then."

Your stomach shoots through the floor as you reach up, threading your fingers through her hair (definitely getting whipped cream in it but whatever), and pull her down to meet you.

She tastes like chocolate and whipped cream and something uniquely her, and you can feel her smile against your lips as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"How's that for technique?" you murmur when you finally break apart, both breathing a bit harder.

"Hmm." She pretends to consider it, but her eyes are sparkling and her hands are still firmly on your waist. "Might need more data to make a proper analysis."

"Oh my god, you're actually worse than me with the nerd references."

"You like it," she says with absolute certainty, leaning in again.

"Maybe," you concede against her lips. "But only because you're cute when you're being smug."

She pulls back just enough to give you that dangerous grin that started this whole thing. "Just cute?"

"And modest, clearly."

"I'll show you modest," she growls, and then she's kissing you again, deeper this time, backing you further against the counter until you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body entirely.

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, 

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, forgotten in the haze of warm laughter and sticky fingers. At some point, her lips found their way back to yours, sweet and a little messy, and now you’re on her couch, knees bumping against hers as you both settle into an almost tentative rhythm. She pulls back just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, and her breath fans across your lips in short, uneven bursts.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, her voice low and a little breathless, her hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of your collarbone.

“You like trouble,” you fire back, and there’s just enough of a spark in your tone to make her grin.

“I really do,” she admits, and before you can respond, her lips are on yours again, slower this time, deliberate. It’s not the playful teasing from before—it’s something heavier, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest and your hands curl into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as she shifts, nudging you gently until your back hits the cushions. She hovers above you, her knees bracketing your thighs, her ponytail spilling over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss you again. This time, it’s a little rougher, her teeth catching on your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and the sound seems to light something in her eyes.

“You’re killing me,” you murmur against her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her grin sharper now.

“Good,” she says simply, and her hands are on the hem of your hoodie, tugging it up. “This okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard, and she doesn’t wait for a second invitation. The hoodie’s off in a flash, tossed somewhere behind the couch, and her eyes sweep over you like she’s committing every inch to memory. Her hands are warm as they skim over your sides, fingertips brushing against bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the way she says it makes you believe her, even with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage, trying to sound casual even as she leans back down, her lips finding the curve of your jaw and then lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands find her waist, and you can feel the strength of her beneath the soft cotton of her sweatshirt, her muscles flexing slightly as she shifts against you.

“Should we,” she starts, her voice trailing off as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear, and you answer it by pulling her back down, your lips crashing into hers with more urgency than before.

“Definitely,” you say between kisses, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.

Her sweatshirt joins your hoodie somewhere on the floor, and her hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your hip. It’s all a blur of heat and soft laughter and the kind of clumsy, sweet desperation that only comes with two people trying to figure out how they fit together.

The couch is too small, the angles all wrong, and at some point, she pulls back just enough to breathe, “Bed?”

You nod, and then she’s pulling you to your feet, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours as she leads you toward her room. There’s something about the way she looks back at you, her grin soft and a little nervous, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

The moment you’re through the door, she’s on you again, her hands sliding up your back as she kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every curve, every shiver. The bed is soft beneath you, and her weight is solid and warm as she follows you down, her knee nudging between yours as she leans over you.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘research’ thing,” you tease, and she laughs against your collarbone, the sound low and husky and so incredibly her.

“Don’t distract me,” she murmurs, and her hands are on you again, her touch firm and sure and just a little shaky in a way that makes your chest swell with affection.

And when she kisses you again, slow and deep, you think, for the first time all week, that maybe the universe actually got something right.

The mattress dips under her weight as Paige pulls back just enough to take you in, her hair falling loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a way that feels criminally unfair. There’s a glint in her eye now, something teasing but focused, like she’s about to run the most calculated play of her life.

“You look nervous,” she says, her lips curling into that sharp grin that’s been undoing you all night.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, though your voice cracks on the last syllable like your body’s calling you out.

She chuckles, low and throaty, and leans down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, and I don’t need you overthinking it.”

Before you can process what she said, she’s sliding down your body with deliberate slowness, her hands dragging over your sides, down your hips, and hooking around the waistband of your leggings. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking permission, and the second you nod, she pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling bare and achingly vulnerable.

“Holy shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, her eyes locked on you like she’s just stumbled on a masterpiece at an art museum. Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that send shivers racing up your spine. “You’re so—” She stops, shakes her head, and looks up at you with that cocky grin. “Nah, I’m gonna show you instead of telling you.”

Her lips press to the inside of your knee, soft at first, but as she moves higher, her kisses grow hungrier, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you squirming.

“Paige,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, but she just hums against your thigh like she’s savoring her favorite meal.

“Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as she shifts lower. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Your response gets caught in your throat as her mouth finally finds you, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had promptly evaporates. Her tongue moves with the same precision she has on the court, all calculated angles and devastating accuracy, and it’s like she’s figured out exactly how to dismantle you.

“Fuck—Paige—” Your hips jerk involuntarily, but her hands hold you steady, her grip firm enough to keep you grounded while her mouth does the opposite.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her lips glistening, and there’s a wicked glint in her eye that makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hang tight,” she says, reaching toward the nightstand.

“What are you—oh my God,” you gasp as she pulls out a vibrator, the sleek little device gleaming like it was made for moments like this.

Paige winks, all confidence and mischief, as she turns it on, the low hum filling the room. “You trust me, right?”

You nod, because at this point, you’d probably trust her to lead you into a cult if it meant feeling like this.

“Good.” She leans back down, her mouth finding you again just as the vibrator presses against you, and the combination is so overwhelming it almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your hands fly to her hair, tugging as the vibrations send shocks of pleasure racing through your body, and her tongue works in tandem, teasing and relentless. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, with every calculated movement.

“Paige, I—” Your words dissolve into a moan that would make your ancestors weep, your thighs trembling as she doubles down, her grip on you tightening.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, her voice low and full of something that sounds dangerously like pride. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you do. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets as your vision whites out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you swear you hear yourself speaking in tongues.

Paige doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching, and even then, she presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back with the most self-satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“Did I just—” You pause, catching your breath, your voice hoarse. “Did I just have an exorcism?”

Paige laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you did, I think I’m gonna need to start charging for holy services.”

“Fuck you,” you say weakly, though the way you’re still grinning probably ruins the effect.

She crawls back up to you, her body warm and solid as she settles next to you, her arm slinging over your waist. “Oh, you’re definitely going to want to do that next,” she teases, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you’re laughing, still breathless and a little wrecked, but somehow more at ease than you’ve felt in ages. Paige grins down at you, smug but soft, and you think, maybe, that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sometimes the best love stories start with a malfunction.

Just don't tell Mike. He's smug enough already.

The End

[xomakara]

Tension and Desires

SUMMARY |  You and Yunho are friends who are oblivious to each other's feelings. Despite the playful animosity between you two, a strong sexual tension simmers beneath the surface. After a night of flirting and drinking, you finally give in to your desires…

PAIRINGS |  Yunho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  obliviousfriend!Yunho, obliviousfriend!Reader, smut, oblivious friends to lovers, non-idol au, jealousy, boneheads/idiots in love

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, protected and unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), marking (hickies), shower sex, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving/m. giving), dirty talk, praise kink, creampies

LENGTH |  8,466 words

TAGLIST | —

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I originally had a different title for this one but I changed it since it didn't really make sense for this fic LOL. Thank you @kpop---scenarios and @anyamaris for beta reading this! I'm so glad you both like it! I hope everyone else likes it haha. Show support by liking, commenting and reblogging. Love you all 💚

You knew Yunho was trouble the second you met him. That cocky grin, the way he always seemed to be one step ahead of you, and the undeniable spark in his eyes whenever you were near. You couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered whenever he was around, but you also couldn't stand his arrogance. It was a constant push and pull, a battle of wits and wills, a dance of attraction and repulsion. You were enemies, yes, but there was an unspoken tension between you, a simmering heat that threatened to consume you both.

The neon lights blurred as you stepped into the bustling club, a wave of laughter and music washing over you. Your friends all decided it would be a good idea to celebrate your last day of freedom before you started the full-time job of keeping up with law school and you were too drunk on the possibilities for tonight to question it. As long as you played it safe, you were going to have a great last night as a college girl.

Shimmies and shapes began to appear as the music buzzed, your friends pulling you and waving for attention from across the room. Mingi's arm slung casually over your shoulder, a playful grin on his face as he led you through the crowd. Wooyoung was already on the dance floor, a whirlwind of energy, while San and Yeosang held court at a table, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. The night was young, and the possibilities were endless.

The party was in full swing, bodies swaying to the pulsing music, laughter echoing through the room. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Hongjoong, a sly grin on his face. 

"Here," he said, extending a glass filled with a shimmering amber liquid. "This'll get you in the mood." 

You hesitated, eyeing the drink suspiciously. 

"What is it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes twinkling. 

"Just a little something to loosen you up," he replied, giving you a wink before walking away to join Yeosang and San at the table. 

Yunho's eyes sparkled with mischief as he walked up to you. "Looks like Hongjoong was trying to get you plastered."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck this is."

"Do you want to find out?" He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils and sending goosebumps prickling down your spine. "Don't be shy. I know you."

You glanced down at the drink and back at him, fighting the urge to smile.

"I might be curious. But what's in it for you?" you asked. Yunho smirked, taking a step closer so that his chest was mere inches away. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, feel his gaze traveling over your face. His eyes lingered on your lips and he smiled again, looking like he was enjoying himself.

"Maybe I just like making trouble," he whispered. He plucked the glass from your hand, bringing it to his lips and downing the drink in one smooth movement. His tongue darted out to lick the residual amber from his lips before he placed the empty glass down on the counter behind him. He leaned closer to you, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke. "I could tell you but then I'd have to kiss you. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Can you two stop flirting and get your asses over here?!" Wooyung called out as he joined the rest of the gang at the table. The lights pulsed to the rhythmic beat of the music and the temperature of the room seemed to rise several degrees.

"I, for one, have no problem with you making out," Seonghwa teased, causing Hongjoong and Jongho to laugh. "As a matter of fact, I think you two should just go ahead and kiss."

"You must be fucking crazy if you think I'm going to kiss him," you retorted with a huff. Hongjoong rolled his eyes and looked away as Jongho smothered a grin with his hand. Yeosang and San were thoroughly amused, chuckling and throwing a wink here or there.

"If you're too chicken to make a move, maybe he should just find someone else who will kiss him," Mingi shrugged, his gaze drifting to the crowd dancing and all the pretty girls that were bouncing and shaking.

"Oh? Do you have someone in mind, Mingi?" Wooyung jokes, looking past him to the other side of the bar. A sly smile slipped across Mingi's lips as he pointed at someone a few tables away from their own. "Assuming she says yes."

"Any girl that turns down Yunho is insane," Mingi huffed, giving you a pointed look.

"And I should care why?" You snorted as you looked from Yunho's handsome smirk to the girl Mingi had chosen. She was certainly pretty, wearing a flowy white blouse and tight black jeans, her red lipstick the perfect complement to her striking features. You watched as she glanced over at Yunho, giggling behind her hand. “I don’t care if he flirts with other girls.”

“Uh huh,” Jongho raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you say.”

"Have fun watching the show then," Yunho grinned, standing up and dusting imaginary lint from his jacket.

"You'll definitely know where I am," you retorted, not caring at all if he was only flirting for the hell of it. "Maybe I'll meet someone cute enough that I'll forget all about you and kiss them instead."

"Like who? Our friends?" he quipped, an eyebrow arching high on his forehead. "We all know you only have eyes for me."

"Ugh!" You rolled your eyes and downed another drink. "Fuck off!"

As you watched Yunho saunter across the club towards the pretty girl Mingi had singled out, something within you twisted sharply. It took everything inside you not to storm across the floor and yank her away from him. But you didn't even want Yunho... did you? The alcohol you'd consumed must have been having more of an effect on you than usual.

"He won't do it," Hongjoong laughed, slamming his empty glass down onto the table. Jongho sat beside him, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

"He's only ever had eyes for you, Y/N," Yeosang chimed in with a drunken grin. "Never any other girl but you."

"You all need to get your eyes checked," you hissed. But the sinking sensation in your gut said something entirely different.

The pair leaned together, whispering back and forth, flirting and giggling, their eyes never straying far from each other. Jealousy and curiosity surged through you as you watched. Your pulse raced with an irrational need to reach out and pull him back, to declare you were his and not allow the unknown girl to lay a single finger on him. 

You needed another drink.

Slipping away from your friends and their silly assumptions, you slid between dancing patrons and dodged drunken strangers until you made it to the bar. An attractive bartender in a form fitting uniform stepped up and you placed an order. He looked you over, nodding and winking appreciatively before stepping away to make your order. A familiar presence pressed against your side. Turning, you spotted San and smiled, greeting him. His arm encircled your waist as he pulled you to him, to talk in your ear over the loud thump of the bass.

"You okay?" He asked, his gaze following yours to watch Yunho as he flirted with the pretty girl. "He won't kiss her."

"Why would I care?" You blurted, refusing to look back at Yunho's tempting smirk as it bloomed on the girl's flushed cheeks. "I don't care about him, not at all."

"You can pretend all you want," he smiled at you foundly. "But Yunho is different when he's with you. He doesn't look at anyone like he looks at you."

The bartender returned, shooting you another flirty grin, before placing a row of shots lined up on the table before you. Plucking a bill from your back pocket, you paid the handsome guy and looked back over at Yunho. You hated to admit it but San was right. The second he glanced back at you, the girl and the whole damn bar seemed to disappear. Only you were in his line of vision.

Grabbing a shot, you slammed it back, enjoying the warmth as it coated your throat. And then another. And another, until every nerve in your body burned deliciously. A thrill rippled through you. Shooting Yunho a challenge, you watched as his brow furrowed slightly, as though contemplating a challenge. Then his smile turned devious and he motioned to the girl to come closer.

Fuck. You grabbed one more shot, not caring that the music had changed to a more energetic song. Slamming the glass onto the table, you marched towards the pair, who had taken residence on the couch against the wall, tucked into the far back corner of the place.

The crowd moved with the beat and bodies shook and ground into each other as you pressed through, your only goal being Yunho and what you might do. Punch him in the face, maybe. Or kiss that obnoxious grin right off his full mouth. Maybe a mix of both, since you weren't sure which emotion was stronger - hatred or desire.

His hands caressed the girl's neck, cradling her face. He whispered something into her ear and she let out a loud laugh. Nausea and desire struck you hard. Without slowing down or stopping to think, you latched onto his arm, yanking him up, and glaring hard into his pretty face.

"I'm sorry but I'm stealing my friend back," you stated. The girl glared at you, about to speak, but you yanked again. This time, he came willingly, stumbling alongside as he was pulled through the throng of bodies.

"Not enjoying the view anymore?" Yunho mused. When you didn't respond he yanked, grabbing you around the waist. You lost balance, letting out a surprised squeak, but he caught you, spinning and pushing your back to the wall. His arms trapped you, pressing along your sides as he caged you in. Leaning down, he whispered into your ear, his breath hot. "Or did you think it was going somewhere?"

You couldn't suppress the shudder that rolled down your spine as his low, suggestive tone caressed you, lighting every nerve ending aflame. His hand cupped the side of your cheek, his touch warm and demanding.

"Why?" you gasped out, swallowing the fear and frustration that crawled up your throat. "Why does she get all that and not me?"

"You want me too?" he quipped, his gaze dragging over your face and settling on your eyes. "Are you sure, Y/N, or are you drunk?"

You had never felt more sure of anything in your entire life. Staring deeply into his eyes, your hands fisted the fabric of his jacket, and you lifted yourself up onto your tiptoes, drawing your face closer to him, pausing an inch away from his mouth, waiting.

"Stop me now if I'm making a huge mistake," you whispered, hoping his mouth would connect to yours.

A grin, a flash of pearly whites, and the lightest of laughs were the only things you got in response. No warning and no stopping, you found your lips smashed against his, warm and full. His tongue ran over the seam of your mouth, teasing a moan. Your eyes slid shut as your senses were overpowered, hands desperately grabbing whatever you could.

Your head was swimming with thoughts of Yunho and only Yunho, as his fingers ran through your hair and pulled your body close. Yunho made sure that there wasn't a centimeter between you both, kissing and touching and nibbling and grinding his body against yours, and your arms curled around him like you never wanted him to move away. And in some way you really didn't—you never wanted this moment to end.

As if hearing this thought, Yunho pulled back, keeping your hips pressed together with one hand but putting distance between the rest of your bodies, keeping his hands away from your waist even though it had just been groping at you moments before. You were panting hard and your cheeks were flushed red, and you felt like your body was burning up with arousal and embarrassment and guilt and desire. Yunho was staring down at you, face as bright red as yours probably was, panting and out of breath and so sexy. Your eyes darted down, to the clear bulge in his slacks, then darted back up again, not knowing how Yunho would take you just blatantly staring. Yunho leaned in close so his forehead was against yours, bringing up his hands to cradle your face in them gently.

"Get a fucking room," you heard one of your friends say from somewhere behind you, but you didn't care because right now it was just you and Yunho, so close and yet still too far. He looked down at your mouth, his cheeks blushing brighter pink, and you pucker your lips a little just because you were a tease, and he ran his thumb over your lower lip.

Okay you were drunk. Very drunk.

"Sooo..." you breathed out, trying to stand tall and look Yunho in the eyes. He smiled that dumb toothy grin, which caused the wrinkles that you found so cute and sexy to show, and tilted his head slightly.

"Sooo..." He responded, his voice deeper than usual. There was a long pause where you both just looked at each other, lost in your thoughts and his gaze.

"Yunho, just take Y/N home, will ya?" Hongjoong said, groaning while passing by and clapping him on the shoulder. "Fuck the alcohol out of your system or something. You both have been looking at each other the whole evening! We get it, you want to go fuck! Go!"

With his final word, Hongjoong gave Yunho a little shove in your direction, and as if in slow motion your gazes met and it was like time had stopped for you. Before you knew it, his hand was pressed against your back, the other taking a hold of your hand, and he was leading you off and out the bar and into the backseat of a taxi.

When the car pulled away from the curb, you had to snap back to reality to tell the driver your address, and then Yunho grabbed you by the chin to tilt your head back toward him. When you saw the lust in his eyes, you gasped softly, your stomach immediately erupting into butterflies and a wet feeling appearing down below. 

"Yunho..." you breathed out shakily, a hint of a whine in your tone, and your lips parted, showing that pretty tongue to him once more. Yunho smirked a bit, but then moved forward and bit on your tongue softly. His lips were soft, but demanding, and he guided you so he could restrain your wrists to your lap, so when he kissed you it was hot and full of heat. You pressed up close into his chest, and Yunho slowly released his grip to hold onto your jaw, the kiss starting to move slower and more sensually. You slid a hand up his chest, pressing under his jacket to feel him. Yunho is muscular and lean; tall with broad shoulders and a muscular back. His ass is to die for, and his thighs and calves are so deliciously thick, and all you want to do is rub your hands over him and suck on his skin.

Finally the taxi slowed to a stop, pulling up to your apartment. You both stumbled out of the car, you paying the man while Yunho held the car door open for you. Then you were stumbling up the steps and into the lobby of the building. You didn't let Yunho go and Yunho didn't let you go, and then finally, finally, finally the apartment door closed behind the both of you and Yunho pinned you to the back of the door, grabbing your thighs and pressing between them.

The kisses were hard and fast, his tongue in your mouth exploring and licking at your teeth, tongue and lips. You grabbed the lapel of his jacket with one hand, the other diving into his hair and massaging his scalp, while walking backwards towards your bedroom. As you entered through the door you shoved Yunho's jacket off his broad, smooth shoulders, feeling up the lean muscle.

You found yourself falling backwards onto your bed, but that was okay because that was exactly where you wanted to be right then. You slid back onto your elbows while Yunho crawled up the length of your legs, his body a delicious line of lean muscle that you wanted to have all to yourself.

"God, I could fuck you so good..." Yunho mumbled as he leaned forward, capturing your lips in another kiss and you mewled needily into his mouth, grinding your hips up into his. "Gonna fuck you so good until the only name you can remember is mine."

"Fuck," you whined, head tossed to the side to bare your throat to him.

Yunho's hand trailed up your bare thigh, pushing your skirt up to pool at your hips. He stopped to look down at you, your hands pushing his shirt up and running over his torso. "No panties and your pussy shaven?" he said slowly with a soft moan of your name. "Fuck...you are going to ruin me tonight, aren't you baby?"

"Just get naked, Jeong," you groaned, your legs parting of their own accord. He chuckled in return and sat back on his heels to strip out of his clothes.

You know that tomorrow things would be back to the way they were—you and Yunho sniping at each other whenever given the opportunity, making mean and bitchy comments to each other when in front of everyone, all the while with an intense sexual attraction and deep feelings. But tonight...tonight was a free-for-all, where the air between you both is charged with drunken passion and sexual frustration. You always secretly wanted to fuck each others brains out but would never admit it to anybody (no matter how obvious it was to your friends). Tonight, you wouldn't regret anything. Tonight, it was just you and Yunho, and his perfect mouth on your thighs.

"Fuck," you moaned as his teeth sank into your thigh, giving a harsh suck so that his mark was left. "Guess I won't be wearing skirts and shorts anytime soon..." You didn't really mean that because god did you want everyone to see the marks he left on you.

"Guess not," Yunho growled back as he left a few more hickeys along the inside of your thighs, enjoying how you squirmed under him and moaned his name. His hands trailed up your body under your top, his long fingers touching everywhere and finding your breasts. "No bra either? God Y/N, you planned on this happening."

"Maybe I did," you murmured back, opening your eyes to look down at your body and lock gazes with him. "Maybe I wanted you. Maybe I always have."

"Fuck," came the breathy whine before he was attacking your lips, and your shirt was being pulled over your head. With your clothes practically discarded in an instant, Yunho attacked your bare torso, kissing and licking and sucking his way down. He lavished your breasts with attention, swirling the pert nub of your nipples between his lips and letting it go with a small pop, moving to the other when he deemed it had enough attention. When he let this nipple free, a long stream of spit connected his tongue to the sensitive nub, and you watched the drool fall onto your skin with an aroused shiver.

"I thought you hated me," Yunho began in between licks along your lower stomach. "That I hated you."

"Never," you moaned in response, curling one hand into his hair. "You're just so damn infuriating sometimes."

"So are you," was all Yunho mumbled before he attached his mouth to your cunt. His tongue swiped across your outer folds first, flattening out against the length, then ran his tongue up and down the slit, dipping just barely past the entrance to your core. The little jolts and tremors coursing through your body, combined with your choked moans and high pitched whines were absolute perfection to his ears, and Yunho buried his face as deep as he could. It was intoxicating, the taste of your pussy, sweet and slick with your arousal, and he practically salivated into it like a starving man. Your whole body was flush and warm against his mouth, and he savored the taste of you on his tongue as he ate you like a fucking buffet.

And honestly Yunho was eating you better than anybody had ever before. His tongue was flicking against you, nose pressing right into the spot that made you absolutely go fucking crazy. You squirmed and mewled loudly, fingers tangled in his soft fluffy hair, and you let your legs curl up and around his wide and firm shoulders, bucking your hips up against his face.

"God, please," you whined, voice tapering off into a soft moan at the end as Yunho ate your sopping pussy like there's no tomorrow. You had forgotten what pleasure even felt like until then. His long fingers circled your wet pussy hole, pushing their way past your folds to massage against the taut muscle with every dip of his mouth. Your legs curled tightly around his neck, not choking, but trapping Yunho right where he was in place. 

"Yes! God, Yunho, yes!" Your back arched, eyes closed and a low whine in your throat, your body quickly coming to the point of no return. You ground your hips forward, rutting against his mouth with fervent enthusiasm, but you were pulled from that moment of pure bliss when he slipped a long finger into you and pumped the digit back and forth. Yunho let his gaze travel over your body, over your soft form and watch the way the curves moved when he shifted or pressed in certain spots.

His name slipped through your lips in a whisper, his fingers pausing mid thrust. Your hand gripped his forearm as your whole body tightened, your pussy quivering around his finger. A little trickle of liquid seeped past his finger and onto the sheets under you, your insides trembling as you came from Yunho's fingers and mouth. The man kept moving his hand through the aftershocks, allowing the moment of bliss to be drawn out as long as possible, watching how you continued to gasp and whimper as you came.

"There you go," he whispered encouragingly, his eyes still roaming up and down the length of your naked figure. "Mm, such a beautiful thing, cumming just from the press of my lips and tongue." He smiled and leaned back down to pepper your belly with small kisses, his free hand roaming over the tops of your thighs to cup your bottom in a small squeeze.

"Yunho, I need you, please," you whined, batting your eyes as you looked down your naked chest to where the tall man was laid in the vee of your thighs. "Please?"

Yunho hesitated, still for a moment before looking up from between your thighs to where you laid propped up on your elbows. "Do you have any condoms?" he asked, his thumb running gently back and forth over the delicate skin of your lower tummy.

Your stomach flipped slightly from the intimate contact, a smile crossing over your face at his care. You turned, fumbled for the nightstand and pulled it out, dropping a wrapped package right next to him, earning a little smile from Yunho. The latex was pulled over Yunho's considerable girth, the latex slipping easily down his long shaft, and he spread his body between your open thighs once the little package had been tossed away.

"God, we should have done this earlier," Yunho whispered against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, giving the area a gentle nibble, then pressed his tip to your wet slit.

Your whole body tensed, nerves beginning to tighten again at the feeling of his dick near your sopping pussy. And when Yunho was finally settled in the hilt, filling you to the brim, you let out a squeak at how absolutely large he was, the stretch and burn from the stretch making you even more drenched than before.

And when he pulled out, you felt so empty, before Yunho was pushing right back into you, filling you all over again, his breath hitching just the slightest bit at the way you sucked him in.

Your mouth opened wide in a soundless gasp, as your heart pounded loudly and wildly, a whine escaping when Yunho grinded his hips down and slowly, rubbed up and against all of your walls and nerve endings and you knew he felt good, so good.

"C'mon pretty girl," Yunho cooed as your breaths and moans started to pick up, speeding up the pace, moving from a gentle slow drag of the hips to deep, quick pounding thrusts.

"More," you breathed, reaching out to grab his hand. You needed something to cling to; something to focus on and feel, so your hand would lock onto Yunho's forearm as his cock fucked you deeper, faster. "D-don't stop," you pleaded in a low whimper. "Don't stop fucking me...please."

The pace became even more erratic and punishing, as the both of you got closer and closer to release. His large hand slipped down to palm your breast, a jolt going through your body as his thick fingers kneaded into the sensitive flesh. Every press was followed with his hips pumping harder, working against each of your muscles as his length slid in and out. His hand trailed down further to rub at the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, his hand slipping with how soaked you were.

"So close…” you moaned.

Yunho picked up his pace again, slapping his balls against your plump ass everytime he sank inside of you. Your cries got higher in pitch and your back arched upwards, fingers gripping his forearms again.

"C'mon Y/N," Yunho encouraged again, panting from above you. His length pounded in and out, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum. Fucking cum."

You squeezed around him tightly, his pace and force not ceasing in any manner, and your hips twitched a bit, getting closer and closer. You practically sobbed as your climax grew closer and closer, almost painful and too sensitive.

And finally, finally the release. Your eyes shut tightly and your hips stuttered. Your back arched, almost lifting you completely off the bed, and your cries were muffled by Yunho's tongue forcing its way into your mouth. And you gushed all over Yunho, pussy pulsing rapidly as you felt Yunho fill the condom at the same time.

Your chest is heaving and sweat is dripping down your forehead and into your eyes. Your eyes are lidded as Yunho pants quietly over you, leaning up onto his palms above your naked body. Your muscles throb and pulse from the orgasm you and him just shared, and your hands rest on Yunho's firm sides, letting him bask in his moment of pride and post orgasmic bliss.

Finally he slipped out and fell to the bed beside you, pulling the used and tied condom off, tossing it into the wastebasket, then rolled over towards you and kissed your bare shoulder gently. "Best sex I've ever had," he admits honestly.

"Same," you breathed out in agreement, snuggling into his body. You close your eyes for a moment and bask in his warmth, letting yourself have this moment of complete and utter domestic bliss with Yunho.

When tomorrow comes, and hopefully you were not suffering from a hangover, you and Yunho would talk about what this meant between the both of you. Until then, however, sleep was what you needed most and so you allowed yourself to relax. Yunho's arm wrapped itself around you to pull your body into the line of his own, your back pressed flush against his warm chest, and you and him drifted off, clinging close together.

You blinked as the blinding sun spilled through the gaps in your blinds, the warmth waking you up slowly. It had been awhile since you woke up this slowly and naturally, not because of a loud alarm. What made it better was the strong arm curled around you, and the hard abs pressed into your side.

Oh yes, Yunho had definitely fallen into bed with you last night, after that sexy taxi ride, and hot steamy sex. You never had a night so good as the night you had with Yunho. In a matter of seconds it was like a rush of memories and your face grew red at the mere thought of them. You tried shifting your hips, to no avail. Well you guess last night's activities did a number on you. Yunho probably too, and sure enough you heard a slight groan behind you.

Your stomach flipped with excitement as he started stirring from his sleep, and it was at this moment you realized that you probably looked like an utter mess. Yet, your thoughts stopped as soon as he nuzzled your neck gently and held you a little bit tighter, keeping you firmly in place. You really wanted to turn and look, to stare into his beautiful face, and soak in his handsome looks but it seemed he wasn't ready to give up on cuddles quite yet, and who were you to refuse this man some cuddling?

It was rather comforting to hear Yunho's breathing pick up to show that he was awake. "Did last night really happen?"

Yunho's morning voice was like sex, something you didn't think you'd get so aroused by but damn did it affect you. You could listen to him talk like that forever and it would never get old. 

"It did." You had no idea why, but your fingers were instantly drifting over his arm, rubbing gently against the firm muscles. His hold around you was soft but firm and strong, like you would stay with him all morning. Maybe you should have gotten up, maybe you should have suggested breakfast or something but honestly the thought of moving from the bed and losing this intimate contact sounded painful.

"We can talk later," he whispered against your skin, his morning stubble scratchy against your neck. Your back was pressed against his toned torso, your bare skin so warm and supple. "I just wanna stay here for a bit."

"Me too," you admit to him softly, shifting slightly closer as if that was even possible. His soft hair tickled your shoulder, and the little puffs of air brushing over your skin gave a soft chill of pleasure.

This felt right, all of this. As scary as that felt to admit and even consider. But for the time being, you really couldn't complain at all. You just wanted a lazy morning cuddling with a hot man that gave you the greatest night of your life last night, and would be more than happy to give you that again anytime. You would be crazy not to want to cuddle with this man in bed right now.

For now, you and Yunho could sleepily cuddle in bed, without thinking of what this meant for the two of you, because this could end so easily or maybe it will finally end up becoming something.

However, while both your brains would love to let you enjoy this quiet peaceful bliss, you heard the front door slammed shut and heard Wooyoung's voice in the hall. "YUNHO GET YOUR DICK OUT OF Y/N SO YOU BOTH CAN EAT BRUNCH AT THE DINER. IT IS HALF PAST NOON! SO SAY GOODBYE TO Y/N'S PUSSY AND HURRY UP, JEONG! TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE! OUR TAB IS ALREADY OPEN!"

"GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP WOOYOUNG," both you and Yunho yell, turning beet red. 

You are not looking forward to a full day of teasing from everyone. You turn to Yunho, who was already getting out of your bed. "Can we talk before we head out to meet up with everyone?"

"Yeah, just a little bit, before Wooyoung makes another one of those sex jokes about my dick that are terrible and not funny," Yunho grabs his boxers and slides them on. You stare at him in amusement, seeing he didn't mind being naked, like at all. It was refreshing.

"Look, about last nightㅡ"

Yunho smiles softly at you and he sits back down on the edge of your bed. "Don't worry, it doesn't have to be anything big or anything if you don't want it to, you know. We can still be friends or enemies or whatever and still have sex if that's what you want."

"Yeah?" you ask as he puts a strand of hair behind your ear, your face burning red and your heart fluttering.

"Well, I mean, I enjoyed the fuck out of last night and I would be really happy if it wasn't a one time deal," Yunho smiles when you scoot closer and turn on your side to be able to lay on his leg and wrap your arms around his waist. He even kisses your forehead.

"Me too. Let's just see what happens, no pressure or commitment, okay? If either of," you gesture with your finger between your bodies, "are feeling weird, just say something and we’ll talk, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Yunho answers you, his voice almost tender, something you hadn't heard before last night. It was different. He gives you another little squeeze, letting you nestle into his warm lap.

The moment was over a little sooner than you expected.

"YUNHO! Y/N! FOR THE LAST TIME IF YOU DON'T HURRY UP I WILL COME INTO THE ROOM AND DRAG YOU OUT. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE NAKED. GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT ROOM."

Yunho gets off the bed and puts on his t-shirt, groaning. "We're coming. God, could you just shut the fuck up?"

He shakes his head and holds out his hand to you, helping you out of the bed. His gaze flickers downwards as your legs stretch and show off the marks that he placed all along the tops of your thighs; what were supposed to be easy hickeys turned into harsh bites and small bruises that stood out against your delicate skin.

"What are you staring at, Jeong?"

"Just your pretty legs and beautiful hickeys all over them," he grins and allows you to grab some clothes.

"Shut up," you blush, knowing that not even last night and your hot makeout session would prepare you for what would come ahead now.

So much for the enemy line you and Yunho created between the two of you.

You met up with the rest of your friends at the usual diner that you and your friends always went to. It had been a good twenty minutes and no one said a word to you or Yunho. However, San looked way too satisfied and Seonghwa just kept a smug and knowing look the entire time you all had brunch.

"Sooooooo..." Mingi finally decided to talk, everyone going silent when he leaned in. "Had fun last night, Yunho?"

"They most likely did," Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows and stuffed a hashbrown in his mouth. "They were still in the bedroom when I barged into the apartment this morning."

"I'm going to change the code to my door so you can't get in, fucker," you stuck your tongue out and went back to your food. "Okay, look. I didn't mean to go home with Yunho last night. It just happened!"

Hongjoong laughed. "Uh huh, of course. It 'just happened.'"

Yunho shot you a teasing look, but then cleared his throat, grabbing all the attention. "Well, you guys wanna know what else just happened last night?"

You winced. "Yunho, don’t!"

"Y/N was definitely expecting something last night." Yunho continues anyways. "No panties and bra—"

You clasped a hand over his mouth, cheeks flushing red. "No one needs to know!"

Jongho raised his eyebrows. "Well damn. But really it's no surprise you got dicked down by Yunho."

San shook his head. "Man, now I need to find someone to hook up with. This is not fair."

Seonghwa chuckled. "Same. Yunho can't be the only one getting pussy."

"You got any female friends, Y/N?" Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows as you picked a strawberry off of his pancake and ate it. "Got any friends looking for a dick appointment? I am single."

You groaned as your other friends started looking around their table for the single friends you might have. "Ugh, okay. Can we please, PLEASE just shut up about everything that happened last night and forget about it? Okay. Whatever happened, happened. It's over."

Everyone stared at Yunho curiously when he said, "Oh no. It definitely did not happen."

Your cheeks burned. "Don't be such a dick. God."

You felt a hand rub over the marks left from his mouth against your inner thighs, a gentle smile appearing on his face. Thank god that you weren't wearing anything short because everyone would certainly catch a glance of his claim all over your soft and plush legs.

"He's your dick, huh?" Yeosang's coy voice picked up in the conversation.

"Lucky, lucky," Mingi wiggled his eyebrows.

Seonghwa started cracking up. "To think only a few hours ago you were fucking a guy you pretended to hate."

"He's growing on her," Hongjoong raised his eyebrows and met your eyes, a little mischievous smile on his face. "Admit it Y/N, you like the shit he pulls on you."

You didn't answer, opting for another strawberry to distract your mouth and brain. Yunho didn't help your case when the hand that was on your thigh, a reminder of exactly what he was capable of doing with his fingers, gripped at your soft flesh possessively.

"GOD. JUST MARRY ALREADY." Jongho groans loudly, hearing you squeak quietly.

"Have kids or something." San chortled.

The others, sans Yunho of course, start agreeing as they watch you and Yunho trade looks, catching you smile just the slightest and him gazing intently at your pretty lips. Wooyoung, tired of everyone in his immediate proximity, groaned at the ceiling.

"JUST ADMIT YOU BOTH LIKE EACH OTHER OR FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, PUT A RING ON THAT BITCH, YUNHO," Wooyoung stares at Yunho in disbelief, feeling a need to laugh hysterically. "We're all sick of watching the love-hate thing between you two."

Everyone burst into agreement.

Yunho shrugs casually. "Alright, we have our first date and we plan to get married. That satisfies you? Everyone is sick and tired of the back and forth fighting right?"

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching across the table to pat his arm softly and soothingly. "Thanks, honey. They definitely bought that."

He grinned. "I'll buy your love."

Hongjoong scoffed as everyone looked like they were gearing up to slap the two of you. "We see right through that crap. We might be crazy, but we ain't that fucked up in the head not to recognize bullshit. Now go away, you two."

All seven of them shoved the two of you together, out the door of the diner, with smiles on their faces and shouting some explicit words.

You stood with Yunho beside your car. "They're batshit insane."

"Isn't that why we love them?" He raised an eyebrow as you pretended to think about it. He laughs. "You're a pain in my ass sometimes."

"You're a pain in my ass too."

"Ha...Yunho," you mumbled his name, grasping his wet back as he held you against the tiles, mouth attaching to the marks on your neck as the steaming shower cascaded down on both of you. The tiles were icy against your back, water pelting down on you, steam heavy in the room. Yunho couldn't stop for more than a second, couldn't breathe. Everything that came out of his mouth was praise to how much you fit him so perfectly; you squeezed him like no one else could ever have, and the way he touched you made you lightheaded, unable to think of anyone else, ever. "Oh god..."

Your legs were wrapped around his hips, your toes flexing as the shower water rained down over him, his hands holding your thighs, fingertips sinking in your plush, plump skin. It has been months now, close to two or three, since Yunho and you have been sleeping together. To be completely honest, it wasn't that simple either; when it happened between the both of you it was never 'sleeping together' and everything about it was very complicated.

Sometimes, it was fucking, sometimes it was love making. Sometimes it was slow and sensual while other times were hard, fast and rough. Sometimes it was just sex where you leave each other afterwards. Other times it was staying together and sleeping curled into the sheets. Everything that had to do with what you had going on with Yunho was complicated and difficult.

"Oh my God..." His cock kept diving into you, meeting your desperate whines as your hands tightened around his strong biceps, listening to the short stuttered breath as your thighs quivered, tightening around him. Yunho swore and dropped his face into your throat, a moan pressing to your collarbone when he took another thrust. You writhed on the spot as his hand tightened at your thigh and around the curve of your back. "Yunho."

"Fuck Y/N..." Yunho moaned against your neck. “Say my name again, like that. Goddamn you look so fucking pretty with my dick inside of you. Always looks so pretty on my cock. Made for my dick." His forehead dragged against yours, nipping at your bottom lip. "Love you like this. Begging, aching, beautiful...so perfect for me..." His voice came out, strangled and raw, leaving you trembling and moaning as the sounds he pushed out of your throat, swallowing them with sloppy and heavy kisses.

The warm shower water still beat against you, trickling around your bodies and spilling over to the bathroom floor, the stall all humid. His large and massive body hovered over you, hands braced over your back and leg, fingers leaving searing patterns against you. The touches, kisses, sounds, the heat in the humid bathroom. It had you gasping his name, higher, deeper and louder.

God. How fucking had you never let this happen before? Let him bring you apart piece by piece in every way, watch him work you for hours like a canvas to his finger tips, show him every part of you that no one else has been allowed to see?

Now you had him all to yourself. Every ounce. Every inch.

And boy, were you insatiable.

"Do you hear how gorgeous you sound?" he praised hoarsely. Yunho groaned at the filthy sound of his wet, throbbing and long cock pushing its way in your pussy.

"Yes, Yunho," the look of pure satisfaction and power spread on his handsome face as you answered him with breathlessness and surrender had you clawing at his back. You squeezed his shoulders and ground your teeth. "Oh fuck, Yunho...I can't...I don't thinkㅡ"

He bucked his hips into your clenching hole harder.

"Damn Y/N," His breath brushed the shell of your ear. His lips kissed you hungrily, passionately, moving as roughly as his thrusts, slick with water. "I won't ever get tired of this, ever."

"Me neither," you mewled against his swollen lips, face flushing red as he ground into you, throwing his hips faster, harder, leaving you crying out as you clutched around him, arching into him. "Yes, oh fuck! Yes!"

The constant drag and pull on his dick sent your body and mind soaring to the heavens, making you mewl and call his name in a needy voice. It was more than a simple tug and release, more than fucking on occasion, a certain intimacy you only shared. "Y/N. I want this everyday. Just you, right here, getting fucked on my dick, falling apart on me. Over and over again."

"Me...too. Oh my god," Your lips parted with another loud, lustful cry of his name, pleasure swelling throughout your entire body. Yunho moaned a stream of explicit words, his brow furrowed and his hands shaking a little bit against your skin. The roll of his hips lost some of its rhythm, coming faster, the slap of wet skin against your thighs even louder as his heavy and thick cock abused your entrance. "More. Oh. OH, FUCK YES!"

His eyes closed as his dick pushed its way deeper into you with every shove. "So fucking close," Yunho grunts, your back and hips slapping against the wall behind you as his body pushed you against it, pinning you on his hard length. "Let go, baby, cum all over my dick."

"Yunho, fuck! Don't stop, Yunho, ohㅡ" You whine, tightening and tensing under him, "Don't stop. Fuck, I'm going toㅡ"

"Cum for me baby, that's it, cum for me," the guttural noises rolling off his tongue only spur you on further, nails digging into his back and your thighs trembling.

It takes a few more long and powerful thrusts before you find yourself yelling his name, coming on his dick hard. His rough growls of curses and your name turn breathless, hips twitching as his cock buried deep inside of you, cum shooting into you. Yunho's head drops into the curve of your shoulder.

You slump a little, finding no energy to keep your limbs taut anymore as he slips from your pussy, slowly lowering you back onto the shower floor. As Yunho catches his breath and releases the leg you were hanging onto him by, your heart still pounds so rapidly that it leaves you struggling to stand up right, slumping against his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Yunho rasped, smoothing some wet hair from the front of your flushed, warm face and pecking a gentle kiss against the corner of your mouth. You grin a little and lean into him, hands sliding against his broad and soaked chest, slick with water. "Take your time. Just try not to pass out. Not that I won't catch you, but we will probably both slip and hit our heads. Then, we both will be in the hospital."

You laugh as he turns off the water to the shower, stretching to reach over you for two towels he put on the shelf to hang, handing one to you. After wrapping the fluffy cloth around your cold, drenched body, you step closer to him, allowing him to press a kiss to your forehead. "Well, I better be careful then."

He lets out a laugh as he picks you up in his arms and wanders into his bedroom. The afternoon sunlight pours through the partially drawn curtains, washing over the bed. Yunho dumps you unceremoniously into the thick, fluffy comforter. You smile teasingly and fall onto the mess of pillows and blankets, damp towels dropping carelessly aside as you relax back into his sheets. He crawls towards you, smiling the slightest as he kisses your wet, tangled hair. "That was good, though, huh? Not gonna deny that it wasn't?"

"I don't remember. Was someone pounding me against the shower tiles like the fucking world was ending? Did I enjoy it at the very least?" You snuggled against his naked chest as he chuckled and settled into the blanket beside you. "Not gonna lie, but a girl could really get used to being taken care of by a man who fucks like he means it."

"Someone who also can't get enough of your delicious ass pussy, huh?" He grinned, sliding an arm around your waist and shifting to rest his cheek against the top of your hair, rubbing at your wet strands. You giggle and swat at his side, drawing him closer against you, tangling your bare legs. "You'll just have to take what's yours. So a daily request for your favorite big dick is not that bad."

"Daily, huh? I'm lucky," you glance at him curiously as he rubs a thumb against the smoothness of your soft skin. "But seriously, you'd actually want this to be a permanent thing between us?"

Yunho stared intently. "Do you just want it to be sex or something more? I mean, what are we even, at the moment? We do more than fuck and leave, right?"

Your hand rubbed at his skin absent minded, thumb circling a light mark left behind from you earlier. "We do more than fuck and leave, yeah… What should we call what's going on between us, really?" You pondered for a bit, sitting up a little more.

"How does..." Yunho begins, sighing softly, a small and sweet smile pulling on his face. "Getting married and having kids like the guys suggested sound?"

You grinned as his deep voice purred against you. "Nah, not ready for that step yet."

"Wanna move in?" He asked, sounding surprisingly sincere. "Become my live-in girlfriend?"

There's the briefest pause, but Yunho's gaze never falters. He watches the emotions that flicker across your face, the excitement, surprise, happiness and affection all cross your features. "Yeah? Really? Girlfriend?"

"Of course," he nods slowly, not needing a single second to think about his decision. Yunho squeezes you a little tighter, resting his chin against the top of your head and kissing it lightly. "I'm not in it for just the sex. I genuinely...I really, like you."

"Yeah...I like you too." You pushed against his bare chest. He laughed, burying his face in the crook of your throat. "Only a little bit."

"A little bit," Yunho said, his hot breath ghosting along your collarbone, pushing your head back to place kisses along your neck. "Just a little bit? What about… a lot bit, maybe?"

His large palm stroked down your shoulder, over your arm, grabbing your hand and moving it between his legs. A guttural moan leaving you both as his fingers dance around your wet slit.

"Always fucking ready, babygirl?" Yunho smirked, watching your teeth graze against your bottom lip, before sliding his length through your slick.

"Ready whenever you are."

[goldfades]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!

─ word count | 2.6k

─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????

─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk

─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.

"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.

You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."

You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.

"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."

Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."

You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."

You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"

"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.

With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.

After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.

You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.

But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.

Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"

"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"

Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."

"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.

As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.

You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.

In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.

As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.

"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.

You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"

Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.

"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.

Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."

You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.

You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.

"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.

"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.

"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"

"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.

As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.

At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.

But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.

Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.

──

"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.

"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.

Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"

Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"

"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"

"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.

As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.

She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.

"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."

With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.

She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.

The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.

Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.

Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.

As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.

She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."

She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.

"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."

Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.

"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sunasassdealer]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

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tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge

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[azzibuckets]

you’re so good though [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: pazzi in the bahamas. that’s it

Paige could care less about the Baha Mar MVP trophy weighing in her hands. As soon as Azzi accepted her All-Tournament trophy, she was launching herself at her best friend. “You’re gonna crush the hardware,” Azzi giggled, but she buried her chin in Paige’s shoulder anyways.

Paige squeezed a hand on the younger girl’s hip. “All-tournament team. Not too bad for your third game back.” In all honesty, not too bad didn’t even cut it. Azzi had shined on the court tonight, scoring a whopping 18 points to keep them in the game after a rocky third quarter. Seeing her jog down the court, confidence etched into her eyebrow as she sunk basket after basket had made Paige’s heart thump even more. She’d waited years for this, to play in the same court as Azzi, and the time was finally here.

Azzi rolled her eyes. Lifting her jersey to wipe sweat from her forehead, she glanced down at her trophy, happiness shining in her eyes as her dimple deepened. “Your ass almost didn’t get MVP tonight.”

“I don’t wanna hear nothing,” Paige grumbled, punching Azzi’s shoulder playfully. “Geno’s gonna give me hell about those turnovers later.”

Azzi laughed and drew Paige in as someone approached them for a picture. “Best player in the nation,” Paige crowed, throwing her arm around the dark haired girl’s shoulder.

As they walked to the press room, Azzi nudged her knuckles against Paige, their signature subtle reminder of each other’s presence. The blonde was still flushed from the game, her sweaty baby hairs sticking to the nape of her neck, but Azzi still thought her girlfriend looked as beautiful as ever. Paige looked up, her blue eyes bright beneath her lashes, and smiled one of her goofy smiles, allowing herself to intertwine her pinky with Azzi’s for a brief moment. She let go before anyone could see, but both of them looked away and blushed at the clandestine contact.

“You fools are so obvious,” Ice muttered as she walked past them. “Y’all better tone it down for the press conference or CD’s gonna be on y’all’s asses.” (Azzi did, in fact, not tone it down)

As the press conference started, Azzi yawned. Most of the questions were directed at Paige, and she didn’t even mind. She was ready to go to sleep after a long day. Azzi hadn’t even registered that the reporter had directed a question at either of them until Paige was turning to her with a smirk. “You got it.”

“Nope, you got it,” Azzi responded, knowing she had no idea what the reporter had just asked.

“Nah, I’ve been talking too much.” Paige shifted forward, placing her elbows on the table, as Azzi knocked her knee into hers under the table.

“Nope, you got it,” Azzi repeated. She lifted her hand and rested it on Paige’s back, trailing her fingers and smirking to herself as Paige shivered. “You’re so good, though, please continue,” she teased, her eyes running down Paige’s flexing bicep. She swallowed - Paige really had been in the gym over the summer.

“Nope. You haven’t done media in two years.” Paige said, jerking away from Azzi’s touch. The heat of the younger girl’s fingers sliding down her jersey and flirting with the skin at her waist was becoming too much.

“Seriously, come on,” Azzi argued, fighting to control her face. The daggers Paige sent her way meant that she’d be in for it later, but she didn’t care. Flustered Paige was her favorite Paige.

The older girl shook her head, her stare sharpening as she pressed her foot against Azzi’s ankle in warning.

Azzi sighed in relief as another reporter began talking, but Paige’s hand landing on her thigh before slowly sliding off her knee reminded her that she was still in deep shit.

Later that night, when they returned to the hotel to change before dinner, Paige’s hands were on Azzi before the door had even closed behind them. “You thought you were being cute and shit, huh,” Paige said gruffly, sliding her hands around the waistband of Azzi’s shorts.

“Nope.” Azzi popped the p, hands reaching up to slowly undo Paige’s hair from her ponytail. Running her hand through the blonde strands, she fluttered her lashes at her girlfriend. “Just being kind.”

Paige’s fingers danced across Azzi’s ribs, pushing up her jersey to feel the warmth of her bare skin. “18 points and the ego got to your head, hmm?”

“5 turnovers and your ego’s still big,” Azzi retorted, shifting her thigh between Paige’s legs and pressing up. The blonde’s breath hitched at the contact.

Paige’s eyes flared. “You brought a turtleneck?”

“We’re in the fucking Bahamas, dumbass. ‘Course I didn’t.”

Paige smiled smugly. “You’re gonna need to buy one after this.”

“Paige, we have dinner in ten minutes,” Azzi retorted, but nevertheless tilted her neck for Paige to skim her lips across.

“Ten minutes is all I need,” Paige murmured, teeth colliding with Azzi’s collarbone.

Azzi’s mouth parted slightly. The little pants escaping her lips were making Paige go feral, and her hips pushing up against the blonde’s didn’t help one bit. “We can’t.”

“Who says?”

“This is my family we’re making wait,” Azzi argued, tangling her hand in Paige’s hair.

“Are you tryna convince me or yourself?” Paige smirked, now peppering kisses across Azzi’s shoulder.

“Paige.”

“Alright, alright.” Paige let go of Azzi’s hips and stepped back, her lips shiny with spit and her pupils blown over with want.

Azzi giggled at the glazed over look in the blonde’s eyes. She pressed a kiss to Paige’s mouth. “Later, okay?” She bit at Paige’s earlobe before drawing back with a coy smile. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, MVP.”

“Fuck.”